Brunch, salad, Michael Clayton.

After brunching on homemade french toast at Jay's place, we played "Hue are U?" where the cards reveal that I am an evil, tyrannical person. We never finished the game because it soon became two o'clock and the two of them needed to meet Emily at the Brooklyn Museum, where there's a Takeshi Murakami exhibit. I, on the other hand, needed to get home because Hooman was due to arrive back at three from Myrtle Beach.

Turns out he just barely made his flight from Charlotte because of a delay in South Carolina. But his bags weren't as lucky; he had to hang around Newark for an extra hour and a half until his luggage finally arrived on the 4.30 flight. I stayed awake long enough to put together some vegetables in a steel bowl and call it a salad, and when he finally got home we snacked on that for a little bit. At seven, the jet lag won. Again.

When I got up at four in the morning, I put Michael Clayton on, which is a great movie to watch with headphones and when it's dark and ominous outside. The thing is, I have so much catching up to do re: film and television, and there's so much to read. But it is cold and I'm so jet lagged -- there's just no joy in it for me.