At least I went outside...

Today I did what I really, really wanted to to.

I rested, relaxed, and generally enjoyed myself. I left my apartment twice today. First to buy breakfast from McDonalds, second to buy lunch from Chipotle's. I did shower before going out in public, and my hair was halfway decent.

But I didn't shave or brush my teeth. Before I came here I had never worn formal clothes all that often. When I worked at The Manhattan Mercury, I wore fairly nice clothes, but I never wore a suit or a tie. Nowadays I rarely leave my apartment without them. In fact I'm afraid to leave my bedroom unless I'm all gussied up and professional. It just feels wrong.

Hunter S. Thompson committed suicide over the weekend; you could say he was a small influence on my writing. I'll just say I was disturbed by his actions.

I read a little about his exploits with the Hell's Angels, a little about "gonzo journalism," and I was intrigued by his coverage of the 1972 election.

But I've never really read too much of his work. Pity.

This week is supposed to be a slow one. I heard that Congress is taking the week off, but I have trouble believing that. They're supposed to be working on the legislation that holds the nation together; they're not going to take a week off, are they?

I guess I'll find out tomorrow if I'm right, or if I'm still just horrifically naive. I've only been here a month now, remember?