2002-01-03 - 11:45 a.m.

The thing is, the boyfriend LOVES this hat, beyond all reason. Me in the hat, I should say. You'd think it was leather lingerie or something, the way he reacts. I put the hat on to go out (because it's cold as hell in NYC now, cold enough that I have to stuff towels in the windowframe of my bedroom) and we'll be walking somewhere, and I'll look at him and he's standing there with this goofy smile on his face, watching me. And I say, "what?" with the slightly accusatory tone that is my trademark, and he says, "You look so sexy in that hat. I can't stand it." Or we'll be sitting in the car and I'll look at him and he'll say, "Turn your head back around. I love your profile in that hat. You look so fucking cute."

So, thanks, Jane. That hat is doing wonders for my sex appeal, apparently. There's no accounting for taste, I guess.

I'm about to jump in the shower and reacclimate myself with the outside world. I spent yesterday doing fuck all, didn't even get out of my pajamas until 3 o'clock. So today I'll get out and about, run some errands until my interview at 4. After which I'll be heading out to Brooklyn to pick something up from a friend. Because when you're unemployed you can run errands in the boroughs if you're so inclined. But I need to get out before then, and get a little human interaction before the interview, so I don't end up sitting across from the guy with a glazed look on my face, mumbling incoherently about todays guests on Jerry Springer. Wish me luck.

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