Listening: The Queer Eye soundtrack. To be totally honest, it's not that good. There's a new version of practically the only song I like from Sting's last album, "Never Coming Home," and it's not an improvement. Maybe it's me, but I was disappointed. Reading: The Mother Tongue by Bill Bryson. You know how you're not supposed to ever split an infinitive? (Hee.) It's because a hundred years ago, one guy said you're not supposed to. Even though it makes no sense. In every other language, the infinitive verb form is one word, so there's nothing to split. Why the hell English grammarians chose to care about it so much, we have no idea. Working: Um, a lot. By next Friday, I will have spent at least some time at work every day for 19 straight days, and I'm not even sure that I'll be able to stay away next weekend either. I'm a little tired.

So, yeah, it's Valentine's Day, and I have to tell you, I don't really care that much.

Last year I railed against it, and I was sort of surprised to discover that there is a Valentine's Day backlash backlash. People started to bitch back at people who bitched about Valentine's Day. I still think it's a dumb holiday, but for all you coupled people out there, I hope you're having a lovely evening.

A friend of mine is at her sister's wedding today. I hate to be cynical, but I think getting married on Valentine's Day is a little risky, because if things don't work out, then you probably will be a little bitter about it for the rest of your life.

I have to say, though, if you're out tonight at a nice dinner, or getting married, or otherwise spending time with your one and only, you're missing some really interesting television. Bravo is showing Fatal Attraction, CNN had a one-hour special on infidelity, and The History Channel is running their five-hour "History of Sex."

MSNBC, for its part, is showing a documentary about coroner investigators.

Something for everyone, I guess. I, myself, am watching Down With Love, in honor of this non-holiday. I first saw it a couple of weeks ago and immediately had to purchase it, as it really is quite an adorable little movie. Why the costumes or art direction or "Here's to Love" didn't get Oscar nominations is totally beyond me.

I do have to go to work tomorrow for a few hours, but when I come home, my friends Michelle and Lori are coming over to do a Clean Sweep on my living room.

I am eternally grateful, and, surprisingly, not the least bit nervous about two people going through all my stuff. Other than a bunch of bills I obviously never bother to open, there shouldn't be anything truly embarrassing to come across, and if there is, well, it'll be their reward for even agreeing to do it in the first place. (That, and dinner at a restaurant of their choosing, which still isn't thanks enough.)

I just really need to get things in order around here, before my Oscar party on the 29th, which will be immediately followed by three weekends of my play, for which I'll have out-of-town guests every one of those weekends, including my parents for the last one. And I can't do it myself. I'm way too emotionally attached to everything. Even for stuff where I'm not, I get way too easily distracted. If I'm trying to arrange books, for example, I'll do it for about five minutes until I come across one I either loved or never read and then I'll sit on the couch and read it for an hour or three and never get anywhere with the actual organizing.

So I'll be working in my bedroom (where there are quite a few embarrassing things, actually, not the least of which is the amount of laundry I have yet to take to my new favorite place that does it for me), and they'll be downstairs pitching things out the front door. They've even promised to come back next Sunday and finish whatever doesn't get done tomorrow.

Honestly, do you have better friends? Do you? It can't be possible.

Speaking of good friends, I have rewarded myself for all time spent at work this month and all the performing I'll be doing next month by buying a ticket to go see Elise in California the last weekend of March.

I could not be more excited, not just because I will see her, but I will also get to meet her son, born last June, and pseudonymed Mercutio by Mo when she came over to watch the Oscars with us when I was there last year, and the pictures from which I never posted for some unknown and shameful reason, so here's one:

(That's Mo on the left, me in the middle, Elise on the right. Mercutio isn't in this picture as he was still in Elise at the time.)

Anyway, I really needed something to look forward to to get me through the next six weeks, and going to see Elise and Mercutio (who is, and I am not kidding, baby-model beautiful) and hopefully Mo again is about the best thing I could possibly imagine.

I have a confession to make. I am starting to sleep with Scotch tape.

See those? Those are the three banes of my existence.

For some reason, about a month ago, I suddenly noticed these three troughs in the middle of my eyebrows. I have no idea how long they've actually been there, but now they are all I see whenever I look in the mirror. Apparently I have spent a lot of time being thoroughly puzzled recently, because I started to catch myself with my eyebrows scrunched together all the time, without even being aware that I was doing it. Now, of course, I'm hyperaware of it, and usually during the day I can stop myself.

But I've also been waking up completely scrunched almost every morning, and I'm horrified by just how many hours a night I must spend like that. So I put a piece of Scotch tape over them before I go to bed now. It really does an excellent job, as it completely prevents me from being able to scrunch.

I don't think I'll have to do it forever, obviously. Just until I train myself not to get so confused while I'm sleeping. Hopefully I'll be able to avoid Botox for a few more years, anyway.

And you know, I'm not really down with love, or Valentine's Day, or any of it. I'm not bitter, I'm not angry, and for the moment, I'm not even that lonely, though I suspect that has more to do with the fact that I'm busier than I have been in years than being at peace with the single life.

I still have hope. Scrunched eyebrows and all, I still have hope.

Me and my mom. I love this picture so much it makes my heart hurt.