I stink.

Amazingly, I just spent the last eight hours playing with a ball of string.

I'm not even kidding. I've been knitting but mostly untangling a very messed up ball of very fine cashmere yarn. And I've also watched Under the Tuscan Sun, Grease, part of Grease 2, and Saturday Night Live.

This is my Saturday night. I should feel like a loser, but really? Really, it's divine. After six weeks of hectic traveling or having guests every weekend, I'm pretty pumped about playing with string.

Also, it's nice to have a little time to myself. Yesterday, I looked like this:

I sort of got flowers. From two different men. On the same day. And then went out with a third that night.

I know. WTF?

The flowers? Are lovely! The Guy With Two Dogs sent me calla lilies - my favorite - as a congratulations on winning the National Beautiful Garage Award ... which he obviously made up, but I so appreciate the creativity. And Mr. Interwebnets sent me a mixed bouquet and chocolates with the simple note, "I miss you." This was a follow up to his "I'm going to give you space / let's talk about Jesus" e-mail of two weeks ago. Yikes.

And then I went out with Mr. Graphic Designer last night, and boy, he's a good kisser. Because he's a bit of a player and therefore well practiced.

I am a harlot. A hussy, if you will.

In some ways, I feel like I'm preprogramed to try to win over all of these dates - like, genetically, I innately strive to win a mate. Why isn't it enough to just have fun? Especially since I truly don't have a biological clock. Why do I think somehow that I need a boyfriend?

I have to have the "no, we're not a couple and we never will be because I don't understand why you just paid $500 for new brakes for your '85 Celica" conversation with Mr. Interwebnets.

I'm ugly but at least I'm learning how to be real.

And my house smells really nice right now.

Image courtesy of Google Images.