Give me a week or two to go absolutely cuckoo.

I just moved the wall. I couldn't take it. There was a half-wall separating NextDoor Neighbor's desk and mine, which we kept pushed to one side so there was a window for conversation. I hated that this window now opened up to Annoying Big White Guy. So I moved the wall. I got up, slid it over, and now I don't have to see the back of his head.

Unfortunately, it doesn't do much to block out sound.

[I should also clarify that the word "Big" is an adverb to describe "white", not an adjective to describe "guy". In other words, his mouth and ego and self-importance are big, not his height or weight.]

Yesterday afternoon I went to the thrift store with QCL [Quasi-Clandestine Lover] and selected CeCe's outfit for Friday's performance. The experience started off awkward and uncomfortable and ended up fabulous and fun. I came home and tried on the clothes and was pleased with how the fit and at one point I just looked at myself and thought, I might not make a great drag queen but I make a hell of a sexy crossdresser.

Then I broke in the boots by rehearsing in only them and my underwear. I would have kept the outfit on until Lowenstein got home, but she was bringing company, so I put clothes back.

Also on the clothes front, today I'm wearing my new favorite suit again (navy blue pin stripe) with my bright pink dress shirt and no tie. I was expressing enthusiasm for my look, including my scruffy unkempt face, and Lowenstein looked at me and said, "you just want to fck yourself, don't you?" I laughed. Yes, I certainly do. I have those moments where I look at myself in the mirror and think about what it would feel like to maul someone who looks like that person in the mirror. I revel in these moments of narcissism, because I spent too many damn years feeling unattractive and undesirable to anyone, especially myself, so I'm happy that now I can please the most important and harshest critic: me.

Slim complimented my outfit, saying she enjoyed the color combination and wouldn't have thought to put it together though it works well. Except she called my shirt "hot pink" which I can't get behind. And then on the way back from the bathroom, this badly-dressed guy who works in another office and who rarely says more than three words to me said, "um, are you going to a disco tonight?" Then chuckled to himself as if he was as clever as my shirt was ridiculous. Oh little man, how you are wrong on both counts. And if you knew the lucky life I lead, and the people I know (biblically and otherwise) and the woman I wake up to every morning, you would keep your mouth shut.

But instead, I keep mine closed and grin and go back into the office.

The ironing is delicious.

It's possible I've spent more time on the phone than on e-mail today. Or maybe a handful of calls and a few voicemail messages are so far above and beyond my average, it just feels that way.

It's possible that I just took some kava kava with a double espresso drink. This might seem contradictory, but my mind is anxious and my body is tired, so let's reverse some of the energy flow with the help of pharmaceuticals found around the corner.

It's possible the store clerk who rang me up at Walgreens made me blush a deeper color than my shirt when she complimented me on it. She was watching me intently as I scanned the counter, trying to figure out which check out stations were open, so I followed the non-hostile stare. She followed up her compliment with something about having never seen a guy wear that color before. I stuttered a second, then finally said, "it's all about confidence, I guess." Ha.