Done In

So tonight was the night I was going to tell you about Portland. But I'm too fucking tired. No reason to be, since my body thinks it's 7:40, which is not my usual bedtime. But my body also thought it was 4:30 when I pushed it out of bed this morning, so there you go.

Remind me to tell you the one about the bad first date while I was eating a giant fungus, or the one about how the people I think are my people are not the people who think I'm their people. And the one about being invisible, and the one about the human iditarod. And for sure the one about the great cafes, none of which were named Virginia, but all of which were open.