no rest for the wicked

so i am supposed to be sleeping. cuz i'm supposed to drag my friends around for beignets and whatnot at 8 a.m. or so. (who chose that hour?) my house is sparkly clean for more guests arriving tomorrow p.m. i'm ready to go. and i can't. go, that is, to sleep.

i can't decide if this is tragic or not. after all, i'm just going to park my butt in a chair out on the grass in front of various music stages at the jazz and heritage festival. with various trips for food, beverages, and oh, yes, porta potties. (a porta pottie by any other name would be as gross by afternoon. mustn't forget the purell.)

it's supposed to rain and thunder one of the days this weekend. new orleans' rain renounced its amateur status a long, long time ago. mayhap i, and all my companions, will be soaked to the skin. a good day to avoid white, i think. especially since i won't feel like carrying an umbrella. yes, no white.

yes. no. white.

apparently, no sleep either.