too many gin & tonics last night, a lovely evening fading into blurs as it got dark out, me slipping upstairs to curl up on the couch because i don't know how to play competetive ping pong, but E was up there and we talked about something that, unfortunately, is blurry, and i wish it wasn't. everyone left but the two Es and J and i, one E and i talking briefly about creativity and being opposites, me wanting to do nonspecific things, him full of ideas he doesn't necessarily act on, and then we wandered back downstairs looking for the other E and J, who were talking in the stairwell about one thing i remember and one i don't.

more blurry conversations and home.

i know it was fun, but i wish it wasn't fuzzy 'round the edges. i'm sort of sick of that. i mean, i've been sort of sick of that for ages, but considering my usual drinking nights lately consist of two or three glasses of wine, an evening of g&ts just isn't sitting well. i don't like it. i didn't like it when i woke up this morning, J and i finding that we both had a sort of indirect sadness settled onto us in the shape of a hangover.

tonight we go to the symphony and don't drink a thing.

he's so good.

(the other night he fell asleep watching angel and when i climbed on the couch and sprawled over him, he said, "you are so comfortable! you're a perfect blanket." and he's my perfect wrap-around arm in the morning, one knee hooked over mine.)