I'm so excited. The NCAA Tournament will begin in moments. I have all my windows open. I'm not at work. What an awesome day.
Except I just checked my work e-mail and a client wasn't happy with what I sent yesterday, so I guess I'll be working while watching hoops. Fuck. There goes my awesome day.
I suppose I should get working on that so I have time to get the Irish soda bread baked that I promised to bring when I head over to The Boy I Currently Like's place for the evening session games.
Okay, I'm back to pad this out. Apparently, I didn't screw up; the client is just being picky. Someone can fix it tomorrow. It's good to know that when my colleagues read the e-mail from the client their first thought was to do exactly what I did. I still feel like an asshole, but I got a little pep talk that took the edge off. Lord knows I've refined answers for both of them in the past, so it's probably okay that they finally have to do it for me.
The day is back to being awesome, despite the fact that it started off with a horrible red wine headache. I really should have had some water interspersed with the wine I drank last night. I barely had any after the gym, for Christ's sake. Then, while I was drying my hair a little while ago, I realized the headache was coming back. Apparently, I've been avoiding water this morning, as well. Moron. I'd better get hydrated so I can drink with The Boy tonight.
Now all I have to do is watch hoops and leisurely get ready. I think I'll do the bread during the second half of the second game, so it won't be completely cool when I head over to The Boy's for the evening session of games.
Once I'm at his house, I won't have the temptation of my laptop in front of me to obsessively check how my bracket looks. I'm pretty sure it'll look like poo. Honestly, I filled it out yesterday and looked it over and thought to myself, "What the fuck was she thinking?" But I can't second-guess myself. I won't. I'll just continue to think I was on crack and that's why I somehow ended up with West Virginia as national champs. Damn you, Huggy Bear. Your crying after the Big East Championship somehow fucked with my head.