Good Ideas and Bad Ideas

I had one hell of a night last night...at least the parts that I remember.

In my Imperial Russian class we broke up into groups to discuss Chekhov. I had chosen "The Cherry Orchard" and unbeknownst to me, so had 'cute girl' who's very existence now noted as 'cute girl' is only to make my wife roll her eyes. I think she thinks I flirt with cute co-eds all day long...when really I'm just too sleepy...oh and in love with her.

Anyway we had a great discussion and clearly our group's presentation (my group was me, 'cute girl', 'talkative nice girl', and 'guy that looks like Sam Roberts') was so much better than the rest that really we should all just be given an A and be done with.

As a side note, one should not read a lot of Chekhov when feeling sad, or under the weather, since most of his work involves sick people and dead people- and often sick then painfully dead people.

After class, I got to go to private lecture at the Provost's lodge with Provost MacMillan, who signed my copy of her book "Nixon in China", and Lyn Hamilton, a mystery writer who was very nice.

I even had a beer! Which probably later added to the haze when I took my meds but anyway it was fun while it lasted...

Then I came home and was spent. I took my meds and sat down at my computer to answer emails...(This is where the bad ideas come in...) I vaguely remember emailing a friend (you know who you are) and then apparently I commented on same friend's blog (which I don't remember and only saw today). That can't be good right?

The problem was that I had given myself plenty of lead time before the stuff would kick in so that I could do all the tasks I do in the evening. However, Ginny Grace woke up from what we only assume was a nightmare and was bawling like she only does on very rare occasion so we went in and got her up and gave her a bottle and settled her down- all of which took about a half hour...

In which time the drugs took hold because after saying goodnight to her, I only remember Shelley telling me to turn off the computer and come to bed...I remember a few minutes of Smallville on the DVD player and then 'kaboosh'...I got nothin'

On the plus side there are no reports that I ran naked through the yard talking to the garage, nor did I leave prank phone messages, stage a military coup, or disassemble and reassemble a car in Dean Wormer's office...none of those things did I do. And I think we can all be grateful for that.