S.O.S.

Someone please help me.

I'm obsessed with Who Is Going To Stay Where.

Last night I cut out 132 pieces of card stock and wrote everyone's names on them, to make it easier to arrange people in the poster board hotel lay-outs I am/was going to create.

And now tonight, when I have had the whole apartment free to myself for five hours while M. is out with his friends, instead of getting started on the Novel I'm Going To Write, I have spent the entire evening (after catching up on Average Joe and watching the end of Dangerous Liaissons) making an Excel spreadsheet detailing every room at Our Inn, into which I will move the little names M. created on another Excel spreadsheet guest list.

Or, more specifically, half the names on the guest list, because that's all that will fit into Our Inn. The other half will be at the Other Inn if the Other Innkeeper ever writes back to me. Otherwise, they will be at the Motel Down the Street on Route 6, and M. and I will have to draw straws to see who goes where, and this idea causes me great agita.

And I also cannot stop eating Hot Tamales (the candy, not the Mexican delicacy). And for some reason I put them in the refrigerator along with the Milk Duds (correction: I know full well why I put them there, which is so that they wouldn't get eaten by the cockroaches which seem to be encroaching on our kitchen as the summer goes on), and now when I take them out they have condensation from my hot apartment and they get all over my hands and I get scared that the Hot Tamale Red Stuff will get all over our New Laptop, and this also causes me great agita.

I'm sick. Please help.

And there's still 345 days left.

The only thing that keeps me going are my Hot Tamales, the promise of another weekend, and This Man: