No crying in baseball
This weekend turned out better than I had planned and less ominous than I had envisioned in my dreams.

Friday, I finally sampled many of the menu items at Gochi (japanese fusion tapas) with my co-workers and the boyface. It was delicious, except for maybe the eel pizza. We drank a large handle of Junmai Ginjo and ended up at the karaoke bar next door. I will be coming into work Monday morning with a reputation for belting out shitty pop music. I reckon that this is a valuable skill in the solar industry.

Saturday and Sunday were less fortunate because the boyface came down with some weird inflamed sore throaty thing which I later contracted because I am like a petri dish for boy germs. I saw Zach and Miri make a Porno Saturday night, which was vulgar but in a hilarious way. Despite mostly keeping indoors, we still got some of the nice weather in this afternoon when we walked through Shoreline. There were birds galore. We finished up the day with La Bamba and mechanically counted all of the loose change I have been amassing since February. I will be able to buy someone a nice gift.

In spite of having a piece of sandpaper wedged in my throat, I went to the gym tonight and I worked out. Running is my anti-drug and my anti-depressant.

I hope tomorrow is a better day.