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For some reason, I always decide to come home on the weekends where everyone is gone. Maybe I do it on purpose, in my unconscious. Well, I'm not completely alone, Gracie the dog is here. It's beginning to look a lot like the time I love, chilly, and frosty, and wet. I put on my jacket, hat and scarf and headed to Borders. For magazines. And then some CDs. Like my mom says, "It's a good thing you aren't into drugs, you couldn't afford it." I have no extra money for my veins, it all goes to my ears. Plans for the night: put new music on  my iPod, finish laundry (I love doing laundry), check into baking, glue myself to Breakfast at Tiffany's so I can move the Netflix list along. 

Question of the night: cookies or cupcakes?