LG came out Saturday, and we had drinks and delicious Thai treats at Osha on the Embarcadero. It was a gorgeous day, and few things beat good times under the sun with signature specialty cocktails. We then segued to the Castro for a bit of boywatching (LG's choice) and a stop off at Lime.
Sunday, I was less inclined to be mobile, and spent the greater portion of the day asleep. And I was determined to still get a good night's sleep that night to be prepared for Monday. I usually turn on my fan and heater to act as a sort of thermostat, but this time, just the heater was on to give me the impression of being back in the womb. I turned the TV off and put my sleeping mask on to avoid any extraneous light from disturbing my slumber. And I closed the window completely shut to avoid being awoken by the fucking queen across the way who always starts loudly gossiping early in the morning right at his kitchen window.
It was quiet. It was peaceful. It was warm. And then it happened--a fucking fog horn broke through them morning silence at about 7:30 am. Unbelievable. Someone has placed a curse on me so that I cannot get a good night's sleep to save my life.
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