Dear Diary,

I woke up this morning feeling more nervous than I have ever felt in my life.  To think that this feeling is all over going to a gallery to pick up my lost earring; if only it was that simple.  I’m going to see Bette again, I’ve only seen her once but seeing her again is all that I can think about, I’ve never felt this way before.  Now I’m sitting here trying to think of what to wear.  That’s something new; I’ve never been worried over what to wear to see someone before, and a woman no less.  I think I’ll wear my favorite dark blue jeans and that white button down shirt everyone says looks great on me.  Yeah, that’s what I’ll wear.  Now to shower and get dressed.

Dear Diary,

Wow.  That one word sums up my whole day.  It started out as any Tuesday would, with the exception that I was off work for the rest of the week so I was able to sleep in.  Well in theory I slept in.  It was only a half hour after I would’ve gotten up for work, so instead of seven I was awake at seven-thirty.

I got out of bed and roamed around the apartment trying to find things to do until I was to go to the gallery.  I did the dishes, put in a load of laundry, read the newspaper, watched some morning TV, wrote in this diary, took a shower, then I got dressed in the dark blue jeans and white button down shirt I mentioned in my last entry.  Still that only brought me to nine o’clock.  I decided that I would get going and drive around to find some little diner to eat breakfast at but then realized that my stomach was full of butterflies fluttering around like it was their job.  So I ate toast and juice, simple and nothing to upset my already upset stomach.

Next thing I knew I was driving across the city to The Bette Porter Gallery and there I was standing in front of the door with just the glass door between me and the person that is the cause of this butterfly feeling I am having.  I must have stood there for a while because some people moved past me to get in the gallery and I would have moved but my feet were stuck to the sidewalk.  Here I am a twenty-five year old successful development executive and I standing in front of this gallery unable to move, unable to place on foot in front of the other.