Break down

Welcome to this week's Reno News & Review.

I lied. More precisely, I was mistaken. No wild first breath of Spring Break for Bri. No madness.

However, I've just resolved today to get the hell out of the office the moment I type the final m on this Editor's Note. You know what? m

***

Post St. Patrick's apocalypse weekend: I did my best to make up for my slow start to the first weekend of Spring Break. I had a blast, but the first lesson I learned—remembered, that is—is that there are all kinds of ways to blow off steam. Drinking a bunch of wine and trying to have a Miami Beach vacation right here in Reno isn't necessarily the most productive one.

It's not as though anything bad happened, but when you consider how on I've been for how long, I felt a little like I was wasting precious time. I did get my ancient printer to work with my relatively new laptop again on Friday evening. I also got my home mostly cleaned. (As I pointed out to a friend last week, women I've dated over the years have been alternately intrigued and disturbed by my penchant for drinking wine and cleaning the house.)

A beautiful Saturday brunch at Archie's Restaurant followed by some writing for my English class followed by something I'm almost too embarrassed to tell you about: I got a chemical peel on my face, trying to diminish some sebaceous hyperplasia—blown-out oil glands. I'm only embarrassed because my girlfriend keeps calling it a facial, suggesting somehow that I'm being less than masculine by trying to get the disfigurement fixed. It actually got worse from there. I'll tell you the truth, I think I almost started my menses in Ulta, where I stopped to pick up moisturizer. Then a friend came over, and we discussed the concept over Corona Lights.

Sunday, I watched my son fence an awesome bout in the fencing tournament. Sunday was also, of course, St. Patrick's Day. Can you guess how the rest of my day was spent?