Terry Bradshaw was in the building today and nobody called me downstairs so I could gawk at him. Cloned Hotdog claims she gave me the call before he left, but by the time I made it downstairs--which was pretty damn quick--he was already gone.

At my office, there are two gold, velour couch cushions in the second floor stairwell landing. No one knows why they are there or where they came from. It's a little creepy given all the crazy things reportedly happening in BR right now.

There are at least 10 of us who have noticed this peculiar visitation, none of us are attempting to do anything about it. Except, of course, say stupid things like, "hey did you see those couch cushions, I wonder how they got there."

The past five days have been an absolute nightmare. Everyone I know has been affected by Katrina in some way.

We've had refugees at our house. Not as many as some people I know. It's so sad having people in your home that may not have anything left by the time they are able to get back to home. We were without power for a couple of days...an inconvenience. People I care about are without everything, probably will have to start from scratch.

The husband and I had some rough moments, but things are better now. He really is my rock; I can't function when things aren't good between the two of us. It was especially hard earlier this week.

Every time I try to drive away from work or sleep, I get a call because something needs to happen on the web site. I'm not sure how long I can go without a complete nights sleep.

Every time I think about how little sleep I'm getting, I feel guilty for having it even pop in my head. People are sleeping on the concrete, don't have fresh food or water, and many are in constant fear for their lives. And here I am worrying about how much sleep I'm getting. Pretty selfish.