I have a decent number of irrational fears---falling asleep and never waking up again; being pushed onto the train tracks by an uhinged stranger at the last second before the train comes; wooden spoons---but at the top of my list of Things That Scare Me, No Matter How Illogical is that I will one day get mixed up with a drug kingpin who wrongly thinks I owe him money.

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It's been about six months since I've done a Bad Decision Tuesday---please, if you haven't seen Sean's amazing high school hair, I implore you to go break a rib laughing at it---so I thought I'd kick things off again with a real humdinger.

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Attention, attention! Cease whatever you are currently doing! I have found the world's most perfect workout top!

Perhaps you, unlike me, have not been on a ten year quest to find the world's most perfect workout top. In which case, you should skip this post and go roll around in your stack of already-perfect workout tops, you show-off. For me, the search for a perfect workout top has been a long and fruitless one---until now, that is.

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I'm heading down to San Diego this weekend to hang out with one-third of my family: my dad and my sister Susie. It's an unusual combination, but luckily there's a new Househunters episode on HGTV every thirteen seconds.

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If you are a woman of a certain age---and particularly if you are a woman of a certain age who has been married going on two years---and you write a blog post entitled "My Big News," you are probably going to get a reasonable number of people assuming that you're pregnant.

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First of all, thank you so much for all your well wishes and congratulations on my new gig; I read each of the comments with such a smile on my face because sometimes the Internet is just such a lovely cheering section of a place, isn't it? I love it when everyone's so nice to each other. Hey, you're excited about something? Hurrah, we're excited for you too! You're sad about something? That's okay, come here, we have tissues.

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I've had the most wonderful week off so far. I left my office for the last time on Friday, and my friend Alison took me to a bar where she bought me two glasses of champagne in twenty minutes, and I wish I could say that was an exaggeration, but she was late for a hair appointment and we had some catching up to do, so two glasses of champagne in twenty minutes it was. Boy, that'll knock you back, I tell you.

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There is, as far as I can tell so far, only one downside to working from home, and that is this: if, on a Monday morning, you are sporting an envy-inducing tan you got on vacation in Maui the previous week, there is no-one, sadly, to whom you can show it off.

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Now listen, I am no Miss Marple, but I'm pretty sure I have a mystery on my hands. Something very, very strange is happening on my street right now---more specifically, in my own front yard---and I could use your input in getting to the bottom of it. Or not even getting to the bottom of it, really, because I'm not sure we're even going to do that, but maybe you could just shake your head in bewilderment along with me. That totally counts. 

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