There are people who want to be my friend on Facebook, and I have no idea who they are. DENIED. No, wait... maybe they're all kids from camp or something? Or something. I know one person who uses their husband's account and then asked to be my friend, but I've never heard of the guy. Since I knew her years ago, before she got married, it took me a long time to figure this out. Look, if you can't be bothered to have your own Facebook account, I can't be bothered to be friends with a friend of yours so that we can "connect". Aren't we all just barely, loosely, connected by Facebook anyway? It's all one big computerized relational tangent.

And, no, I didn't really DENY them, nor did I IGNORE them. I just let the friend request hang there. If there was a PROVE YOURSELF option, I might be clicking on that repeatedly. There are a few folks who actually changed their first name somewhere in the past twenty years and then asked to be my friend, which was confusing, but I recognized the profile photos. Still, I required them to PROVE THEMSELVES through email and Facebook messaging and such. What else am I gonna do? Just be friends with everyone?

People do. Actually, I enjoy Facebook. It's pretty commitment-free and stress-free and I'm having fun with it, though I admit the novelty is wearing off. Yesterday, Mrs. Ditchman asked me if I got her "poke" and I said no, I haven't been on Facebook in a few days. I asked why she didn't just poke me here, in person, in the living room? So she did. It was nice. She did it lovingly, and with a smile. No Facebook necessary.

Waiting for Facebook: The Movie. I suppose it would be a charming, offbeat romance.

Yesterday, nearly everything went wrong. The first seven things go wrong and you get mad. The second seven things go wrong and you just shake your head and laugh. Seven more and you're questioning God's existence and indulging in nihilism, at which point there is no "wrong" and everything just happens in random sequence, if there is such a thing. Then you get sad and lonely and afraid of death. Then you go back to work.

But I had forgotten my tape measure yesterday, making work a bit frustrating. Back to Square One.

I'm looking forward to my weekend, though! (Hope you are, too).


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