My pulse and hopes are rising, so let's keep improvising.

Things are better today. And why shouldn't they be? I've worked 47 hours in the course of 4 days, slept a total of 7 hours in that time period, all the while making rent. That's what it comes down to, people. At least that's what I'm telling myself.

But, I think I've discovered a wonderful insanity eraser. I need a schedule; I can't work random hours for these families, working a bit here, a bit there. I need to limit myself, and must discontinue my overextension. So, I'm come up with a detailed schedule, that'll in the end, have me bringing home quiet a bit more, then my previous positions. Consequently, I'll be working 6 days a week, but after surving this weekend, it's apparent I have the stamina to carry on. And sadly, it'll impact Harold Nite, at least the first part. I wont be able to go home for the next two months, due to class being on a Wed. I will bring it to the families attention this week, and sanity will ensue.

Tomorrow is my first day off in a long while. I've been so neglectful of my Rabbit, I'm taking her to the Vet tomorrow, for a clip and check-up. She's healthy, but every 6 months...whether you need it or not. I don't to often discuss her, but she's the best thing in the world. She's a sophisticated creature of the evening, much like myself. I dropped at home, at 9.30, and spent the evening with one of my roommates, munching on Atomic Wings, watching the Golden Globes on Tivo, and dancing to Frank Sinatra. All in all, a lovely closing to an incredibly uneccessary, sleep-depirved weekend.

Mike Myers says hi!

Planning on going to Sing Sing for some much needed Karioke, with - well, that part's not really important. But the point is, I was waiting for my group to finish their cigs, when through the window at Sing Sing, I see one of my idols, one of by biggest celebrity crushes, the best part of 54 - Mike Myers!!!!!!!!!!!!! Because I have such respect for him as a performer, I didn't disturb him and his much younger girlfriend. Does that mean, I'd verbally abuse Kirsten Dunst or Dane Cook - it's a definate possibilty. He's hair is cut so beautifully, and is so shiny. The wait for singing was horribly long, so I left. Oh, you'd never ever hear the end of it if I had sung Pat Benetar for Mike Myers! Never.

Little girls, little girls; everywhere I eat, sleep, and breath them

Today, I'm a commodity. I'm being "shared" by two families. In the "biz" we call this a Nanny Share. In reality, this is what the Confederate party was fighting for. Normally, the mothers coordinate the share amongts themselves, leaving the Nanny somewhat out of the loop. Here, I'm the liason between the two because they don't get along with each other.

The two girls know I care for both of them, and they are aware I act a particular way with each one. I'm very careful not to play favorites; it's really easy for me to care for 2 or more kids at a time. I just prefer multiples.

Switching gears slightly, I forgot to explain myself for my somber behavior at Cage Match last evening. On the way home from work, I got on the "6" train at 77th St.. I like the "6" almost as much as the "4". I typically take the "C" to the "L", but the crosstown bus was sitting there, looking helpless, so I hopped on. At 33rd St, a small group of Asian NYU students got on, and squished up agianst me. There was plenty of room farther down the bench, but whatever. Suddenly, the girl right next to me opened up a small Tupperware container of food. Weird. She began eating what appeared to be a small salad, and was gesticulating like mad with her fork. She was making me very uncomfortable. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed something shiny in the container. It was scales. To a fish. Oh, crapp I though I was going to be sick. I then noticed something else - an eye. The freakin fish this broad was eating, had an EYE!!!!!!! The man sitting across the way, asked me if I was allright. I said yes, why? He replied I was turning green. The women finally realizing my discomfort, apologized and moved. I got off at the next stop, Astor Place, and proceeded to vomit outside the Starbucks facing Cooper Union. I'm sure I'm not the first person to spew into a trash can in the East Village.