Incredulous.

Or thereabouts.

That about 11:30 last night, 2 Somerville local boys tried to pick me up, in tandem, at a new preppy bar in Davis. As I sat in yoga pants, running shoes and hair bristling with static, drinking Riesling and writing birthday thank you notes. They said they liked my glasses and my super-cheap-looking flip phone. They asked if I were addressing wedding invitations and if I might invite them. I wrote my name and (real) phone number on a blank thank you note. And let them take it.

That it snows. A lot. Big sloppy flakes, for the past 6 hours. And beyond the whole "it's April" thing, I actually can't stop watching it out my bedroom window. Instead of sleeping.

That leads to a small fact that yes, I have a personal training session at the gym in 4 hours and 42 minutes. For which I have to get up at 6:30 to digest breakfast, dress, pack a bag for work, and figure out the fastest manner to get there when, because it snows, I can't bike.

That I'm staying up this late a mere 14 hours after writing a screed about my newfound devotion to kicking insomnia.

And, perhaps most notably, that a main reason I'm still up is because of yet another planned phone chat with Piano Man from Brooklyn. How in the process of putting together a conversation of a more suggestive nature, he mentioned he was listening to a Brahms motet, O Heiland, reiss die Himmel auf.

(As in: Oh Savior, Rend the Heavens wide ... Oh God, pour down dew from heaven ... Ye clouds break and rain down ... O earth, break out ... That all mountains and valleys may become green ... )

Which couldn't help but be my favorite choir piece from college. After which he sent me the YouTube link and we then went on to talk about how the German tau means dew and how the passage at 1:57 is his favorite moment and how I could listen to the lead-in to Verse V a thousand times on repeat and how I haven't heard this version of this text in 10 years or more and I couldn't thank him enough for reintroducing me, and he thanked me back for talking with him about it.

That he and I are totally simpatico and he, naturally, lives in Brooklyn.

So, for this morning's scorecard. I've got:

random pick-ups
snow in April
a personal training session
no sleep
the best Brahms motet on the planet

but no man.

Five out of 6 ain't bad?