I couldn't help but be a bit neglectful at work today. I only had a few chapters of Booth Tarkington's The Magnificent Ambersons left to read, and I had no choice but to finish reading. I just couldn't wait until tonight, and seeing as how I have quite a bit of Buffy-viewing planned for this evening, I figured that my work could wait.

Yes, I'm a louse.

And for a bit of trivia, I feel the need to note that Orson Welles was only 26 when he directed the film adapted from this novel, which means that he directed both Citizen Kane and The Magnificent Ambersons by the time he was 26.

Let me also note that in my 26 years I've barely managed to figure out how to hook up my PS2 correctly let alone unclog the drain in my kitchen sink. I officially feel like a useless piece of crap.

Last night? Well, after a few cold showers (and when I say cold I mean Brain-Searingly Frigid) my hot water tank has finally been replaced, the basement is no longer flooded, and life can resume as normal (ha, ha). I had to tempt fate, didn't I?

Though later last night, in a burst of claustrophobia, I escaped from my mud-laden home to spend time with my sweet little Jeff, who greeted me with a plate of homemade chocolate-covered strawberries. He is now my hero.

If the boy were trying to make me adore him, he's doing just about everything right.

I suppose I had better return to work and try to redeem myself. It makes me feel a bit better to know that while Orson was directing his film, he might have taken a break or two to reaquaint himself with the novel. Perhaps I'm not a total slacker.

I figure I have 16 hours of Buffy, Season Six that needs to be viewed this week. Hopefully I won't try to cram them all into this evening.