Everything is going rather well for me at the moment. Other than the fact that I was caught singing to myself by one of my maids, that is. Oh my, Haley Sutton is human. No one was supposed to know that. What will my agent think?

The weather has been absolutely wonderful lately. Just the perfect amount of heat and humidity for me. Despite the terror it brings onto my hair, it's divine. It's made my morning jogs just that much more lovely.

And speaking of jogging, that brings me to the next good thing about these past few weeks: I've been offered a feature in an upcoming issue of GQ. I'm a rather important figure, apparently. (I knew I was popular, but "important"? Well, thank you, GQ.) It made me realise, among other things, that people don't know what I look like. Save for, or at least I hope, those who run GQ magazine. It's a bit of a different arena for me, but I've got so much encouragement from assorted members of assorted groups of people whose jobs are to tell me what to do and what not to do for my career. I will have to run the idea past Edgar, though. To see what his opinion is. A bit excited it is.

Edgar won another one of those high-profile cases he often works on, and he wanted to celebrate last night. I would have liked to celebrate with a nice bottle of wine in front of the fireplace at home, but that's not Edgar. Instead, we went to Picholine for the celebration. Apparently, he had made the reservation days prior in the hopes that he would have a reason to celebrate.

I dressed up, as is necessary for restaurants such as Picholine, and I spent my entire night eating overpriced (though incredibly delicious and well-prepared) food and being ignored by Edgar while he drolled on and on about the case. (I am, of course, as interested as any person in current affairs, but the newest hip-hop artist to receive jail time for such and such crime, interests me not.) It was a disaster of an evening that ended with me asleep, from the amount of wine I drank, immediately upon our return home.

C'est la vie.