So, I'm Not Really A Loser? Sweet!

Who should show up with cds in hand this morning but Michael. Now, I was thinking as he walked up, "Please turn invisible. Please turn invisible." Since that didn't happen, and he seemed happy to see me, I said, "Hey." and kinda shuffled my feet like an idiot. He gave me back my Elbow cd, which he said he liked, and then gave me one of his band's cds, which I listened to here at work in the hour before we open. Interesting stuff.... kinda 70's lounge/indie rock/pseudo-bluegrass/circus music...if that even makes sense. Anyway, we talked like normal until his stop and he said, "I hope I'll see you here tomorrow." I can only assume by all of this that he did not, in fact, receive a fax from me last week and I can quit feeling like a jackass. However, that does leave me wondering if any asking out is ever going to occur. Once again, visions of myself living in a little apartment with my 14 weiner dogs (an allergy to cats is the only thing saving me from becoming "the weird cat lady"), watching game shows and chain smoking 30 years from now are plaguing me and it's becoming more and more obvious to me that I'm heading down the path to spinsterdom. There's still time to save me from this depressing fate, but I think I've lost the superhero hotline number...