So I usually don’t write about my dates on here until things have gone horribly awry, but I figure I can talk about blind dates in general. But how would I know? I’m trying to remember if I’ve ever gone out on a blind date before. Internet dating, once. Willamette Week dates twice. This is in several decades of trying, mind you. I figure I must be even more underwhelming on paper than I am in real life.

In any case, I’m going on a blind date tomorrow. I know hardly anything about her but I guess that’s the interesting part of all this. The problem is that I’m supposed to act like a normal person and, really, my charm is not in the normal or fake normal arena. I figure the worst that could happen is that she (or he — I really know nothing about this person) is humorless. That would be truly awkward. OK, it could be worse: they could be smelly and then try to kill me at some point. But I’m hoping for a normal dating situation. If this goes the way of my recent experiences, she either won’t show up or she’ll bring her boyfriend. I’m an eternal optimist.

Speaking of which, I’m optimistically thinking of getting some actual sleep tonight, so I better get off my silly computer. I know there’s something I’m supposed to do, but I can’t remember what it is. Cleaning my mom’s fancy espresso machine was on the list of forgotten tasks, as is watching some TV show from earlier in the week, and finishing the last book I have standing between me and my Kindle 2. Oh, and clearing out my dad’s old bedroom. The bedroom is so filled with crap that the contractor usually goes in, puts his hands on his hips, blows out a breath through pursed lips, and says, “Wow that’s a lot of crap.” I just have to find a place to stash the crap for a little while so the flooring can be redone. It also needs a new window, new plaster, and new paint, but I’ll worry about that after I get all the crap out of the room.