I dragged my zombie like carcass to a party last night. (Happy Birthday Joe) It's the first time in a good month that I've done any sort of socializing that didn't have children or work or a current event in my life attached to it. It was a shame that I was too out of it to really enjoy it. I spent most of the night trying not to fall asleep or drool on the person sitting next to me.

I managed a bit of yacking it up with a fellow author, who hinted that she's got a new book on the way, but wouldn't really tell me more then that. I ment to ask her about her writers group, to see if I could still get back in it (I was invited once before but never made the meetings). I know that she was involved with two others one critique and one normal type writers group. I'd rather be a part of the latter then the first, I'm not quite prepared enough with any manuscripts to have them blown to bits. Unfortunately, my moronic-like state left me being a total airhead and I didn't remember about wanting to ask her until I was halfway home.

Other then that I mostly wandered aimlessly and stared off into space. Ate some good food, had a piece of cake (Which is surprising to me, because I never eat it), listened to people say some really touching things and cry. Luckily, I was too night-of-the-living-deaded out to cry. All in all, it was a nice quiet evening.

Today I plan on doing one last clean of the apartment (sans garbage in the garage that doesn't belong to me. I refuse to pay the money for a dumpster to throw away things that were ruined when the water heated exploded that belong to the owner. I'm nice, and I feel horrible about leaving garbage in the apartment, even if it doesn't belong to me, but my niceness in this situation is slowly evaporating) and returning the keys. Then I think I might just spend the rest of the day goofing off, maybe I'll make a new layout for IBOM or just be completely irresponsible. It is, after all, Saturday.