Erin Irene and the enjoyable, awesomest, way good, very great day

I'm not a super-social kid, as you (should) know. I'm just fine at staying home and "tapping" my cat with the corner of whatever book I'm trying to read and she's trying to chew. Yesterday, however, I left my house at 11 a.m. and did not return until 9 p.m. In the course of those 10 hours, I filled my socializing quota for a week.

The hostess with the mostest, MaryT, threw a back-to-school brunch complete with school-supply exchange. Kudos to Andi for bringing safety scissors shaped like clowns; they're not particularly handy, but they made me laugh.

Then after brunch, Matt and I ran off to DSW Shoe Warehouse (On a side note, doesn't the "SW" in "DSW" stand for "Shoe Warehouse"? If it doesn't, the hell? If it does, dude, the Department of Redundancy Department called; they want you to step off their turf.), where I bought a darling pair of backless loafers because I suspect wearing flip-flops in sub-freezing weather will not increase my teaching authority. (I'm wearing these shoes today. In my single-minded adoration of flip-flops, I had forgotten how fun cute socks could be.)

After the successful shoe shopping, we met Erin and Dan for coffee, a movie, and dinner. Go see American Splendor, if you haven't. It's interesting and funny and sad. The filmmakers made almost every decision exactly the way I would have—and really, what more can you ask? Also, The Flying Pig makes excellent Pasta Marinara. Any restaurant that abuses mushrooms like that is somewhere that I want to eat.

The company was charming as ever. ("As ever"—like I've been out with Erin and Dan sooooo many times.) We sat at the table for 30 minutes after we paid our check, just chatting and commenting on the fickleness of one of the parties present. Then we left the restaurant and stood outside its front door talking for another 15 minutes. As a group, we either need to form a mutal admiration society or find more people who will listen to us, I'm not sure.

I got home at 9, took a minute to enjoy the fact that it was pouring down rain again, and decompressed a bit until MaryT and I decided at 12 a.m. that it was time for a monkey special (onion rings and chocolate milkshakes). We recapped the day, dissected the events of the brunch mercilessly, and complained a little about stupid boys we know, who weren't at the party but still deserved mention for their outstanding ability to irritate us.

And now I'm exhausted and I'll be staying in for the rest of the week. So don't call. Unless you're proposing ice cream, and then I'm sure we can cut a deal.