You know, I keep thinking I should write something interesting about Paris. Or the fundraiser I just chaired on Friday night (which was very successful and, I believe, broke the record for funds raised) but unfortunately, either I've become 85 years old or 8.5 years old, because I am
every night about this time. I can't do it.
I think I still have jet lag. Even though I've been home for almost a week. Because it's 9:30. My kids are still up. That Stud Muffin I Married is still up. I am the night owl of the family, and all I want to do is go to bed.
That's it. I give up. I'm a lame-o. I'm going to bed.