((title withheld))

Saturday, February 3rd, 2007
Groundhog Day+1
Age 30+(1/365.25)

I woke up to my phone's usual persistant alarm. I looked around, and wondered how I had gotten to this place--what appeared to have formerly been an indoor swapmeet, now reduced to tatters and large pillows. Pillows? Large windows? Was that the Bellagio beyond their tinted and dusty water-stained exterior? Was I really inside the suite formerly known as 3764?

It's the only time I've left gratuity for a maid. I'm pretty sure the V-shaped green paper Lincoln on the nightstand will only antagonize the maidstaff. Antagonize...Antigone... what the? Where were these repressed memories coming from? What was repressing them? My formal apologies will be passed along to the Caesar's Palace Augustus Tower staff. This behavior was not acceptable, even for a 7-star member, Mr. MacDonald.

After a solid fifteen minutes cleaning, I gathered my cupcakes, the half-empty bottle of Scotch, and another forty pounds of post-birthday kit. I left the empty lotion bottle, and the remnants of the exotic fruit bowl. It was a very long trek to the parking lot.

What had caused these blisters?

Why was I limping?

Daylight. What a bitch.