My editor's husband is sick with a stomach virus, so I get to go to the Gillian Welch show tonight, even though I didn't have the money! Hooray for Margaret, the best editor ever. Do you guys love your bosses? I love mine. Lucky me!

I'm running late, so I'm going to leave you with a completely random photo of my fiance's ass, amongst others. Guess which one!

Today Conrad and I took two big steps forward into our adult lives. First of all, we opened a bank account together. At the risk of sounding hopelessly square, we had fun doing that. This is what happens when you get married. You enjoy banking. And then you start wearing faux-shearling lined plush booties with grippy soles around the house. And then you die.

The other, more exciting thing: we got the keys to our new place! It is wonderful and I fantasized all day at work about eating family dinners at our dining table and wearing matching monogrammed robes around with our plush booties. But then tonight we went over there and we were walking around looking at all the empty rooms and the poor paint jobs we have to cover and instead of feeling excited, I just felt tired. All I could see was work: work getting the furniture in the place, work priming and painting the walls, work hanging up all our paintings and artwork, work unpacking boxes, blech. Moving is so traumatic. I want to ever have to do it again. We'll have to buy the condo, that's the only solution.

In other news: all-around awesome dude Jason Killingsworth, music editor at Paste Magazine and the guy who taught me how to work it*, has a side-splitting interview/manic diatribe with/on Christopher Guest, the mind behind Spinal Tap, A Mighty Wind, Best in Show and Waiting  For Guffman in the December/January issue of Paste. Pick it up for good laughs.

*Taught me how to work the digital voice recorder's phone hookup, that is. 

If I plug my cell phone into the charger at Conrad's at night, I always, always forget my cell phone in the morning. If it's not in the purse, it's left behind. Last night I asked Conrad to plug it in to charge it. This morning it was in my purse, fully charged, when left his place. I can't believe how incredibly thoughtful he is. And he's my fiance! Woot!

Today I realized just how much I have failed. There is a person, little more than an acquaintance, who has been keeping a blog for years. This person was blogging way before people were blogging. And for years, I have been reading this person's blog. Never commenting, never e-mailing her about anything I read there, never mentioning it when I would see her around town.

Today I read something on her blog that greatly disturbed me: the undeniable words of someone who is seriously, clinically depressed. Someone who is hurting so badly, in the most painful way you can hurt. And I was struck with the realization that for all the years I have been a silent reader of this blog, I have been wronging this person. Hers is not a blog about technology or fashion, it is a blog about herself, and I've been using it like a reality television show. I know I'm not alone in this. I know that millions of people follow blogs without ever sending a word to the human behind the Web site. But that doesn't make it right.

One day in the locker room of my middle school, two girls got into a fight. They were punching each other and pulling one another's hair--it was violent in the sickest way. The coach was still out in the gym, putting away equipment, and somehow, there was a silent consensus amongst the other girls in the room to keep quiet so as not to attract the attention of our coach. So the two girls just kept fighting. I will never forget the sound of their tired fists hitting each other's heads--dull, sickening thunks--and I don't know if I will ever be able to forgive myself for not stepping forward and doing something, saying something. To watch another human suffer and keep quiet? That is the very meaning of evil.

To this person, the one whom I've been watching, silently--I am so sorry. I am sorry because I know the pain that you are feeling, and I know that no human deserves to feel that way, even for an hour, even for a moment. I have behaved wrongly toward you, because I saw your pain and I didn't reach out. I hope that you know there are people out there, people who are a lot like you. I am out here.

My apartment is a disaster zone. If you had to rate the level of organization in my life right now, on a scale of one to ten? It would be 'apple.' I don't use your scale.

Conrad and I are trying to get our things packed to move into the new place, I'm trying to prepare for the wedding/honeymoon, figure out how we're going to decorate the new place, make holiday ornaments for the swap to send out by Friday, deal with all the legal/bureaucratic crap like insurance, social security, name changes, bills, etc. that comes with getting married, put the January/February issue of the magazine to bed at work by Friday, send out holiday cards, provide friends with lists of people to invite to wedding showers, and oh, lose some weight in the next 33 days. Oh my god, I can't breathe.

I told Conrad today on the phone that every moment of free time from now until December 31 that we have we will have to spend working to get everything done. Okay, I can't even keep typing now. See you in the asylum.