I have always loved the glow of tungsten light. Magritte, one of my favorite artists as a teenager, apart from his fanciful subject matter drew me by his treatment of light (featuring tungsten light in may of his paintings). It gives me a warm fuzzy inside… not sure if this is something peculiar to me, or whether others feel this too?
Gabriel and I had dinner at Britta’s Cafe again last night. We got there just in time to nab one of the two little barstool tables for two. The place was completely booked and the wait was well over an hour for a table… and I was starving. In fact, I’d decided that I’d wanted to go there for dinner quite a bit earlier during the day, since I hadn’t eaten a whole lot and was craving another one of their little 3oz filets. Like butter! Gabriel is feeling rather poorly again. He’s come down with another cold and is congested and snorfling.
We got back last night and watched some TV. I don’t PMS like most… rather than turning into a raving bitch, I simply become weepy, and even the most innocuous things (like the animated Stitch film) will have me reaching for the hanky. I just wiped all the spots off of the inside of my glasses created by my exploding tear ducts. Fortunately the melancholy is of short duration, and doesn’t linger on, so I feel just fine.
Now that I’ve gotten this post off of my chest, perhaps I can fall back asleep once again.