I was going to write a new entry an hour ago, but then the phone rang. I completely forgot what I was going to say in the midst of small-talk and message-taking.

But it suddenly came back to me. So here I am.

Every time I talk to Bobby, the first thing he does is ask me is if I still smoke. And then berates me for it.

Like last night, except he skipped the tongue-lashing part.

He asked me if I did pills or pot, and I said no. He said it was too bad, because he had some he was trying to get rid of.

The point of me bringing that up was that, an hour ago, I was regretting not pursuing that conversation.

But, now, I have decided that I really don't want them afterall.

There is a nearly- empty carton of warm orange juice in front of me. It wasn't vacant when I got it out an hour ago, nor was it warm. The empty part is my fault. The warm, I blame science.

Sleep is a wonderful, wonderful thing. In about half an hour, I will probably be singing the praises of water heaters. Just you wait.