I'm reading a really good book, but I've reached the place in the story where I'm afraid to see what will happen to the characters next. It's going to turn sad. I shouldn't be reading sad books. I get all the sadness I need in my "love" life. I should definitely, at least for now, stick to murder mysteries and cookbooks. Me, I like the neat endings without loose ends. Sue me.

Last night I dreamed, too vividly, something terrible: From my bedroom, I watched a woman lean too far over a balcony railing and fall to her death. I saw her walk out onto the balcony, and I knew what was about to happen. It was so, so awful. I don't want to think what it might mean.

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