Every morning on my way to work, I freak out cause I can't find my keys. For a while, I would look and look and look before finally finding my keys under a pile of blankets at the bottom, right-hand corner of my bed. Now when I can't find my keys, I head straight to the bottom, right-hand corner and the keys are ALWAYS there.  The simply crazy part of all this is that I never have any memories of how my keys get to that spot.  Lately I've been coming home from work and trying to make myself be aware of my actions as I come in the door. I want to know why it is my subconscious feels it necessary to put my keys on my bed under a couple of sheets. But somehow between the time when I walk in the door and the time that I grab a yogurt from the fridge five minutes later, all memory is gone. I've come to a begrudging acceptance. I shall not pursue the mystery further lest I actually break the spell and lose my keys for realzez.

I got a promotion this week. To celebrate I got myself a 60 minute massage. Trust me, I haven't had that much action for a while. Those Armenians are not shy people. Woah...Woah. Also, I got myself some expensive white pants. There is a direct relationship between how much money I have and how many white clothes I posses.