(no subject)

Mum's coming in to town for Mother's Day Weekend, and because my apartment is occasionally infested and perpetually next to the El, she always stays in a hotel, which means I get to stay in a hotel. I checked in this afternoon -- she won't arrive until about four o'clock -- and then went on a food run, which is how I ended up sitting in a hotel room in my underwear eating french fries and watching a documentary about Magritte at two in the afternoon.

I feel there's some kind of poignancy there, but I'm not going to examine it too closely, because you don't question glorious moments like that.

We have quite the weekend planned -- Wait Wait Don't Tell Me tonight, spa for mum and then shopping tomorrow, the symphony on Saturday, and swanky brunch and an architectural tour on Sunday. I just hope I can get good seats for the show tonight -- usually they offer special reserved seats for a bit extra but they didn't this time, so I've got to elbow and dash my way to the good seats.

My digestive quirks seem to have abated, too, though that could be because I spent last night alternating between super-hydrating vinegar water and diet coke spiked with fiber powder. It's an exciting life I lead, you guys.