Michael's gone again -- this time to a hotel in San Francisco to try to pound out a good portion of his movie script. Because for some reason he's having a hard time concentrating what with me wandering into the office and asking critical questions like, "Is it worse to wear pants with an unfashionably high waist or to let my belly hang out like this." That, by the way, is just a contemporary version of the ever-popular question, "Do I look fat in this?"
It's not my fault I'm on vacation and he's on deadline.
I think I'll go to the movies this morning. That's what vacation is supposed to be about, right? I'll eat raisinettes and popcorn for lunch (adding to the seven pounds I've gained in two weeks) and sit among the lonely widows and crazy nose-picking men in the early show.