A single gal's Saturday night

I've been running around for the past month. I'm completely over-programmed, and while I appear to be an outgoing person, it really takes a lot of energy to get dialed into that and I'm just tired (three cheers for the fact that it's daylight savings tonight and we get an extra hour to sleep. I remember when daylight savings meant we got an extra hour to drink at the bar... oh, how quickly times change).

This weekend is the first weekend I've had any time at home for longer than I can remember. I intentionally did not make plans with anyone tonight just so I could hang out with myself.

Note to self: I didn't say hang out by myself. But with myself.

Ah, yes. Tonight I'm on a date with myself. And guess what that means? I don't have to split the bill and I can easily project a second date--yahoo!

Here's what a date with myself entails:

• Candles--not to set the mood, but to kill the smell of the garbage I forgot to take out before I left town earlier this week. Oops.
• A fancy tarte (who are they kidding, it's a pizza) from Trader Joe's--serves four people. Hmmm. It certainly served the one of us on this date just fine.
• Moose Drool--nothing says this relationship is going somewhere like slobber from a woodsy beast. In actuality, it's one of my favorite dark beers. I'm limiting myself to two--I need to keep my wits about me, lest I get myself drunk and try to take advantage of myself.
• A two-alarm fire--okay, it wasn't a real fire. But, two alarms were blaring. Anytime I cook anything in my monstrosity of a kitchen, it sets off my smoke detector in the extra room just outside the kitchen. It would set off the smoke detector in the kitchen, but I got tired of that one blaring every time I boiled water for pasta, so I took it off the wall and put it in my baking tools drawer. Safety first. Well, my pizza, er tarte, not only set off the alarm in the space, but also the one in the dining room. I spent the better part of five minutes frantically opening windows and doors, and whipping dishtowels around my head in an effort to diffuse the steam, or smoke, or hot air, or whatever was setting off the alarms. Needless to say, I was making quite the first impression on myself.
• Porn--that got your attention, didn't it. Okay, it's my porn equivalent. Domino magazine. I poured over the newest issue to get creative decorating ideas for my place (oh, my eyes just rolled back into my head in overwhelming delight).

Who wouldn't want to date this? Maybe for my second date, I'll take myself to a kitchen supply store to begin pricing oven hoods and fans. Did I really just type that? Let me reiterate: oh how quickly times change.