Usually, my alarm goes off at 5:30, and I’m walking down Connecticut to the Metro half an hour later. Today, the alarm rang and I just turned it off and slept for an extra forty-five minutes. It’s days like these, when I don’t have to work at the Bookstore after working at the Office, that I appreciate the flex-time available at the Office: coming in at 10 is totally cool (most people come in early — by 3:30, the Office is a dead zone).

I’m sitting on my couch, watching Tippy stand on the end of a bookcase, stretching out to paw at the still closed blinds. I’ve got my laptop on my, well, lap, and I’m listening to some music, and I’m preparing to watch the last hour or so of Tropical Thunder, which I started last night but couldn’t muster the energy to keep away to finish. Right now, it’s so-so: it has its moments, and its got some funny parts (Tom Cruise has the funniest part), but I don’t think it even reaches Night at the Museum funniness. Also, I really want to take a shovel to Jack Black’s character.

My ceiling fan is turning. I’ve also got the heat on, and since the fan always turns when I turn the heat on, I’m sure it’s got something to do with the heat rising and causing the fan to rotate. I remember some of my science! Thankfully, the rising heat is not turning the fan so fast as to negate the benefit of having the heat on. Speaking of which, as my apartment is now nice and toasty, I really should go ahead and turn it off.

Yesterday was considerably fun: the Office paid for a few hours at a bowling alley to reward the department I’m in for completing our third data-set. Best: since they wanted people to actually attend, they made it mandatory and consider it as ‘time worked’ for our timesheets (yes, we’re salaried, and yes, we’ve got timesheets, to keep us honest). It was probably my first time bowling in, um, how long has it been since Wilde Lake Middle? I mean, really, it’s been a long time since I’ve been in a bowling alley. Post bowling was a happy hour at the Barking Dog in Bethesda, and tonight? Happy hour. Tomorrow? Happy hour. It’s a good thing I get paid on Friday.