Well, idiot that I am, I recorded Leno, not Letterman, so I missed Mike's big shew. I'm not sure what I was thinking... after all, Dave's been on CBS for a long long time now, and when he was on NBC, he wasn't at 11:30. So I was wrong on both counts. All I can plead is exhaustion from pre-babyhood.
Fortunately, my buddy and former housemate Doug (another college crony) taped it, and said Mike aquitted himself well. So we'll see.
Just before she left, Mom called me on the carpet and said, in essence, "Cut the bullshit." You know, about the "pity parties" and all that. She's right, of course. My loved ones deserve better than hearing me whine about how bad I think the life they share with me is. (You, however, dear reader, get no such exemption.)
Except for one thing: should I just plain lie? The fact is that I do think I made a lot of bad choices and I do think I haven't (and never will) lived up to my potential, and I do see myself as a failure. Maybe my expectations were too high to begin with or maybe my priorities are just fucked. But if by trying to make myself happy I just lie to myself, is that really how I want it to work? (Someday I'd like to be grammatical again, but that's a whole 'nother blog.) As Anna is wont to say, I seem to have misplaced my funny for a while now. But I suppose I can only "write what I know," after all.
K will be induced Saturday morning if the baby hasn't come by then. Save the date.
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