Christmas at work, during the happy celebration that is the Gift Exchange and General Swap Fest and Feast, I won a cookbook and cookie cutters from the gift lottery. That was nice.

The work team goes around admiring packages and wrappings, and during the course of their marauding, the Chief Cook and Bottle Washer of the Gossip Department remarked that now I would be able to bake cookies for staff all of the time, and wouldn't that be great? They hungrily looked at all the yummy photos of treats in the cookie book, but there was no offer to pay for cookie ingredients.

I, as any normal working person would, took that as a passing comment should be taken.

What with all the break-ins in my home, I don't have much time for baking, even if I were in the mood. There is plenty enough baking going on at work, anyway, without my contribution.

The stalker is in my home when I am not: Besides rearranging the arrangement of my spoons in my silverware drawer, stealing a nice cream colored blouse, rifling through my underwear drawer and throwing a lacy bra on the floor, the burglar has tampered with the Spyware on my computer. It's not working. Things have slowed to a snail's pace. There is nothing new to do or see in my house. Even stalkers get bored if you don't give them some new entertainment.