declension prompt

I was doing great - ask anyone. And this is not my fault. I went to CBTL this morning (6.20, anyone?) for a repeat of last night's yummylicious strawberry (green) tea, thinking that nonsugary virtue, however difficult it's been for the past 50 hours or so, is not such a bad thing. It does, after all, leave one feeling ... virtuous. So I ordered, they rang me up, I got my tea and left.

Except they made me a strawberry tea latte. And g-dang, it is rocking my Friday morning.

Neither I nor my sugar-loving and desperately sugar-missing taste buds did this on purpose, but I can't in good conscious throw it down the drain. And I've already burned my tongue on it, so I figure that's the proverbial slap and I can now get on with my day.

Right?

Eight hours till I can jump the weekend track. 'Twill consist of pajamas, tap water, and Fendi - and before Jon Stewart on Sunday, one more pre-Oscar screening of my favorite movie of all time. I did not know bliss until I came into possession of the ability to watch "The Wrong Song" (my favorite scene) over ... and over ... and over again.