FRIDAY. 10:50 AM. The country has survived to another birthday. Amazing. Granted in the last few weeks, affirmative action has been upheld, adultery is no longer a crime, and I can have as much gay sex as I want (of course, it might take a ruling by the High Court of the Land to convince my love life that sex is actually done and not just imagined). Even Wal-Mart seems to be wising up (though they're still evil). Who knows? If we don't do anything stupid, we'll survive to another birthday.

Besides such weighty issues, I am still tired. Jet lag is evil. My poor circadian cycle is all wonky. I'm all out of whack. This is the first time I've been slammed by jet lag. I think all of the craziness of my trip, the very erratic hours of sleep, and the travel have just made me one very tired puppy.

Monday's flight was all right (though the whole process began at three in the morning). The airport was fine. I was actually surprised to see how many people were flying so early in the morning. I didn't have any security issues. After a short wait, I was on the plane bound for Nashville. Alas, there were no cute flirtations on the ride back. Though I did have a young African-American girl sitting to my left talking to me about everything and anything particularly about her friends, her ex-boyfriend, and her school.

My layover in Nashville was uneventful. Though I think I caught a lot more stares and double-takes than I normally do. My very short flight from Nashville to Baltimore was punctuated by a screaming child in the row ahead of me. The very snuggly couple to my left had just complained they had gotten off a plane with a wailing babe. Fortunately, like I said, it was a very short flight.

Skinner and Cate picked me up from the airport. The air outside was hot and humid. Ahh, summer in Maryland. We flew down I-95 and stopped in Columbia to have dinner at La Madeleine; we just caught Brian leaving work. He gave us the super employee discount and we ate like... well... employees I guess.

The rest of this past week has been relatively quiet. Tuesday, Ryan came over and hung out with me for most of the day; we had lunch at Cheesecake Factory, bought books at Borders, and went grocery shopping. Wednesday, Shawn came over in the afternoon and hung out; he's enjoying his new job at NIH, the National Institutes of Health. Skinner stopped by later that evening and we just had a couple of drinks and chatted.

Last night, Thursday, I went to a congratulatory party for my friend Nicole, who did the Tour de Friends ride in June. I picked up Nancy and we headed over to the party. It was a fun and relaxed night. Most of the partiers were Nicole's teammates -- the "Bike Hounds." I got to make mohitos and chocolate cake shooters (also called birthday cake shooters).

I also got to help "remove" a party crasher named Vivian. It seems Vivian -- a shortish, gaunt-looking, dark-haired, blackly-dressed, backpack- wearing, and completely stoned woman -- showed up unexpected to their last party. Viv, as we like to call her, drank, broke a number of glasses, and promptly passed out on the couch. No one knew her. And, lo and behold, she shows up again last night. First, she crashed the party going on downstairs. Then she came upstairs, grabbed a beer, and proceeded to stare intently at random things in the apartment -- a plate of food, a spot on the wall, the side of a shelf, a refridgerator magnet. Eventually, Nicole convinced Dana (her boyfriend...I mean her partner) to ask Viv to leave. Dana got her out to the front hall, but Viv stalled, clutching her empty beer cup, and blanked out. Finally, I stepped in and simply told her she had a choice: she could leave peacefully -- we would even give her a beer to go and a plate of food if she wanted it, or I could call the cops. She looked up at that. A few groaning minutes later, she picked up her backpack and left. I felt kind of bad for her. The track marks on her arms and legs didn't leave much to the imagination -- heroin -- I remember the methadoners on the Mission #14 bus in SF. On the drive home, we saw Viv walking down Florida with some shady looking fellow.

It seems my fantasy of becoming a bartender is slowly coming true. I make yummy drinks, and I'm getting practice at tossing people out of the bar. All in all, it was a chill evening. It was really good to see Nicole and Dana, and it was fun meeting her crazy bike-riding friends.

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TUESDAY. 11:00 AM. Happy birthday to Lauren! Sorry I can't be there for your surprise party! I'll be there in spirit, and I'll certainly raise a glass in your honor today!

THURSDAY. 10:36 AM. It's been a groggy morning. I'm not feeling like myself today. I did manage to get to sleep at a reasonable time last night. But I was a little tossy and turny. I had some strange dreams last night. I know one of them had to do with feeding fish in fish tanks (whatever that's about). And I think one of them was set in San Francisco with Rob and Murphy, but that's all I remember.

The week has been pretty quiet, pretty dull. I have been trying to keep busy and trying to keep my mind on things interesting, constructive, diverting, and positive. Sometimes it's not so easy. Whenever I feel like things are too quiet, too still, too boring, I flash back to what Dr. Phil always says, "A bored person is a boring person." I guess the point is that if I'm feeling bored it's because I'm not engaging my life and I need to get back into the game.

The past weekend was full. Friday afternoon, a bunch of folks came over to my house (Skinner and Cate, Shawn and Christine and their daughter Hailey) to work on Archaea stuff. I did a lot of sewing. I made Skinner a new tunic. I made Shawn a long vest. It was fun, but after it was all over the apartment was a disaster area. We had some dinner, we got it cleaned up, and everyone went home.

Saturday was an Archaea day. We played in very hot, very humid weather. It was fun, though. And a nice cool shower felt really good afterward. Saturday night, a bunch of Archaea folks went over to Cate and Skinner's house to watch videos and drink. We ended up watching a bunch of the old Archaea videos turning them into a drinking game. Drink when you see someone you've slept with (or in my case...wanted to sleep with). Drink when you see the female characters scheming. Drink when Skinner's character is dead. Drink when you see Ed being totally homosexual before he came out of the closet. For me, it was a very drunken night.

Sunday was a bit slower than most. I got up. I cleaned up the apartment. It was a Tellings day. Ryan came over early. Cate and Skinner came over early. The rest of the group eventually showed up. Then we played Tellings. It was fun.

Over the weekend, my friend Meredith lent me her copy of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. Of course, I started it as soon as I could. And I finished it in three days. The fifth book is dark, troubled, and sustainingly frustrated and angry. I won't reveal too much now; I don't want to spoil anything. But I found it to be a quick and engrossing read like the first four novels. This time, however, it was pleasurable in a different way -- the characters are growing up, Harry suffers loss after loss, and evil is on the rise. I'm not sure it will be a "fun" read for kids. I spent most of the week pretty upset and distressed because of it. My empathy for the characters and my investment in the story are a testament, I guess, to the continued quality of the series. I shall say no more. But those of you who have read the book should talk to me about it.

On Monday, I started my exercise regimen again. I went out and hit some tennis in the morning. The warm, humid weather -- even in the early hours -- is going to be a big deterrent for me. But I went out anyway. I went out and exercised again on Wednesay morning, too. I feel good about it. I am really working on trying to get more healthy and lose weight. I discovered while I was in SF that I had gained nearly thirty pounds in the past year. I am not happy about it. So I'm getting happy about changing it. As of the start of July, I have gone back to being vegetarian -- well, pesce-ovo-lacto-vegetarian at least. I tend to eat a lot better, a lot lighter, and a lot more balanced when I'm vegetarian. It's been nearly two weeks and things are going fine. Now, I just need to work on cutting more sugar out of my diet.

On Tuesday night, Cate, Skinner, and I took a little fieldtrip to the new IKEA in College Park, MD. I guess it opened while I was away in San Francisco. I think it would've been fun to be there at the grand opening. Even on a Tuesday night, the place was full of people. It's probably the largest Ikea I've ever seen. The place is huge. We walked around and looked at everything. Skinner and I talked about how fun it would be to create a little euro-style apartment where everything is small, compact, organized, streamlined, and efficient. I looked around and played my favorite game of "spot the gay couples," but to my chagrin the Ikea was very, very, very straight. I think I'm going to have to organize some sort of gay Ikea social in the cafeteria or something kind of like Guerrilla Queer Bar.

More later. (Oh, there are more pictures from my San Francisco trip. Thanks to Dave and Dave for sending me some good stuff.)

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MONDAY. 10:52 AM. I probably should go eat some breakfast. I have a strange queasy feeling that's beginning to brew in my tummy. It's kind of like how I felt all day yesterday (but that was because of drinking too many the night before). I'm just hungry.

I got up this morning at 8 AM and went right out to play a little tennis. It's been a busy morning already. After hitting a few, I came home and showered up. Then I ran over to Target for a few household items. Now I'm doing laundry, working on some freelance stuff for my client, and updating my website. Fun, huh? I'm still hungry. (Don't you hate it when all you really want to eat is cereal and you don't have any milk.)

My weekend was full and fun. There were a couple of slow bits, but they came and went.

Last Thursday night, I went to see Pirates of the Caribbean with a bunch of folks. It was a fun movie -- better than I expected. And for a film based on a Disney theme park ride, it had a pretty good plot and script. Johnny Depp was very good with his Keith Richards swagger. Of course, Orlando Bloom was cute (though I really prefer him with the faux-hawk -- what is up with the faux-hawks these days? I've seen so many guys with faux-hawks, kind of a cross between punk rock and rockabilly. It's cute and I suspect the new "gay" haircut). Pirates was a fun ride. I like pirates. I was entertained and surprised, which is always a good thing.

Friday night, I went to see The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen. Alas, I was neither very surprised nor very entertained. It was an all right flick as far as action movies go. But for a film that intends to be about interesting characters, it falls short. For a film that intends to be about special effects, it falls short. It's a little sad since the movie is based on an Alan Moore comic -- I loved The Watchmen. Again, it was okay. It's worth a matinee ticket.

I spent most of Saturday day trying to clean off my desk, which was mostly successful. Saturday afternoon I began my preparations for my costume for a party later that evening. A friend of mine from school, Emily, invited me to a big house party in DC; the theme of the party was "Charlie's Angels Meets James Bond" -- very fabulous. I decided to go as Charlie.

With a little cardboard, glue, masking tape, and cardstock, I built myself a little classic telephone speaker box. Then I got a couple of cheap short-wave radios. Build one of the radios into the box. Presto! My costume is complete. With a press of a button, I can say those famous John Forsythe-ian words: "Good morning, Angels!" I also bought a Hawaiian-esque shirt at Target, wore some cargo shorts, and my sandals.

The party was a lot of fun. Shawn (who was Dr. No dressed in scrubs and a stethescope) and Christine (who was dressed as Dylan from the new movies) came by to pick me up. We drove down into the city and picked up my friend Nancy (who was dressed up nicely as her own Angel). Then we headed over to the party. We found a lucky spot near the house on a quaint little residential street lined by tall, federal-style row houses. The house we wanted was a corner unit surrounded by a wrought-iron fenced garden. As we approached the front gate, a guy in a white, dress shirt, slacks, and a clipboard greeted us. He asked me my name. I was on the list. We were cleared to enter the party.

The house was amazing. Can we say big gay mansion? I thought my friends' Rob and Murphy's Victorian was fabulous. This house was amazing in a whole different way. Hardwood floors. Four stories. Crown moulding. Gourmet kitchen. Rooftop patio. Cedar sauna in the master bath suite. Amazing. It was very Pottery Barn chic.

There was a bar in the front room with tuxed-up bartender. The drinks were flowing and completely on the house. There was a room cleared to be the disco complete with smoke machine (which was turned off because it set off the smoke alarms), lights, and DJ "Jonny K." The party was catered and trays of cheese, crackers, fruit, and other nibblies were served by tuxedoed staff. There was also an outdoor bar in the garden also manned by a lovely well-dressed gentleman. The entire affair was well put together and a whole lot of fun.

It was one of those parties where the men liked men and the women liked the men, too. Everyone was way too cute. And everyone was very nice, very talkative, and very friendly. It was very cool.

I don't remember a lot of details. I found the upstairs "High Level Clearance Lounge" with its own little bar complete with pitcher of cosmopolitans. Suffice it to say, I drank my fair share. I know my friend Scott showed up a little after we got there; he was dressed like James Bond and looked very dashing. I remember meeting a number of people, talking about my hair, and all of us having "edifice envy" while we took a grand tour of the big gay mansion. I remember three, tall, muscled, and shaved headed black men dressed as Triple X (an homage to Vin Diesel). In fact, they were called the "Diesels" with their Triple X tattoos on the back of their necks, which I discovered later were completely fake. I remember a woman dressed like a black-ops agent, all in black with various gear, whom we dubbed, "Boob Raider;" I think she was supposed to be Lara Croft. She was really drunk. I talked to all manner of people. I don't remember many names though. All in all, I had a good time.

Alas, there are no pictures. I had bought a little disposable camera specifically for the evening, but forgot it at home. Drats. I hope someone else took some pictures and puts them up for all to see. (But, wait, some pictures have been acquired by secret spy means.)

Sunday was a slow day (this seems to be a trend for me). I got up late. My sister and I drove up to see Brian at work at La Madeleine; we were treated to lunch. Then Sunday afternoon and evening was Tellings.

I am ready for a rest from my restful weekend.

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WEDNESDAY. 10:47 AM. I wish I was imperturbable. It's not that I'm exactly perturbed, but I'm just not very settled. The last few days have been strangely restless for me, and I am not certain as to the cause or the solution.

I know I'm sick of the thump, thump, thump, thump of my upstairs neighbors doing god knows what in their apartment. I swear I have never heard more "active" people in my life. I just want to go upstairs, bang on their door, and ask them why they can't just sit down, take the load off, and chill out for a while. If it's not at eight o'clock in the morning, it's all through lunch. If it's not in the middle of the afternoon, it's all through dinner. If it's not while I'm watching prime time TV, it's at midnight. It makes me crazy.

Okay, maybe I am a little perturbed.

But because the thump, thump, thump, thump is all I hear right now, it can't be the real reason I'm all frustrated and stressed out. It is a symptom, not the cause. I probably should find a way to get out of the apartment, but I really don't have anywhere I need to be. Plus, the weather's getting hot again, and if I don't have to drive just to drive and add to the heat and smog, I'd rather stay put. I did go out this morning for a little exercise. And they say that working out relaxes you?

More later.

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TUESDAY. 1:17 PM. Milestones are important to me. And today is a milestone -- it is the tenth anniversary of my mother's death. It's been ten years since she passed. I went to visit the cemetery today (is it appropriate to say I visited her today) after I played a little tennis. The morning was murky mixed with sun and humid. I picked some wildflowers from the woods nearby the tennis courts -- some Queen Anne's Lace, some wild daisy, some wild clover, and some bright red trumpet creeper. I felt like I was in kindergarten picking wildflowers for my mother; I even wrapped the cut ends of the flowers in a wet papertowel and plastic sandwich bag.

(I have never particularly liked the euphemism "pass" for death. It sounds to close to another kind of passing. But the phrase "to pass on" or "they have passed" is stuck in my mind forever; it is automatic thinking, automatic writing, automatic politeness. I guess it's all right. I guess it is much nicer sounding than saying my mother "died" or "is dead" all of the time. "Passed away" is better than just "passed.")

The cemetery was quiet, and I always feel odd driving my car along the little asphalt roadways. I get self-conscious and turn off my radio. I always feel like you should walk into a cemetery, carried by your own power. It just seems more respectful.

At first I couldn't find my mother's grave. The grass was a little long, and there a lot more markers on the little hill since I was there last. But I found it. It's starting to look a little worn. Ten years is a goodly amount of time. I was alone and listening to the windchimes in the nearby trees. I said my greetings. I gave her my flowers; some of them drooping already from the heat. And I asked my mother for her continued love, respect, help, and protection. And I cried, a little.

I don't pray in any strict sense nor any organized religious sense. But I do think that words, thoughts, and beliefs have powers. There is magic in the world, the universe. And there are powers, forces, energies, presences, collective consciousnesses also at work in the world. And even if the few sentences, the few personal verses, the few private whispers I say can have a profound impact. They are, in the very least, a reminder, an effort, a reiteration of what I need to hear and feel and remember. After all, I am the first to hear my prayers. I am the closest to my words. They are as much for my own edification as they are for the universe at large.

I had a short but poignant visit. I am still saddened by my mother's death. My life turned a very sharp corner the day she passed away, and I'm still trying to sort out whether it ever made it back on to the right road. I miss her. And I love her always.

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THURSDAY. 9:58 AM. The week is almost done. The month is almost done. Time just seems to be spiraling out of my grubby, meaty hands. But, c'est la vie. What can you do, really?

I had intended on Monday to write a little update about the past weekend. But Monday came and went. I got engrossed in a project for my client and the hours just flew by. I've been working on my client's new website, which should be done by the end of the month. He had someone else do the basic design -- create a template page -- and now I'm tinkering, changing a few things, adding a few things, doing a little data migration, and adding some content. It's fun. I'm a webmaster! I have the power!

Then Tuesday was all sad and mourny (with more website work thrown in). Though, on the way to the cemetery, I did see something new and unusual -- a great big dreadlock mullet on a blond, surfer looking guy -- his mullet was one big dreadlock that reached nearly down his back with a couple of loose locks on the sides. It was gross, actually.

Wednesday, I finally got the keys to our family's townhouse over near the university from my father; Skinner and I went over to see the house. I had not been back to the townhouse since I lived there from kindergarten through third grade. It's bigger than I remember it. And it's pretty run down and worn. If I am going to live there for the next year or two, there needs to be some serious application of elbow grease. The hardwood floors need to be cleaned up, sanded, and re-sealed. All of the casement windows, some of which are cracked or inoperable, need to be replaced. The kitchen needs to be totally madeover (and the roaches need to be exterminated). Both bathrooms need a little facelift; the main problem is that the upstairs full bath leaks into the downstairs half bath. Finally, the basement is an evil, moldering, dank pit; the whole thing has to be gutted, sealed, painted, and resurrected. The house could be livable with fixing the floors, the kitchen, and the bathroom leak; everything else can be done later. I guess I hadn't expected there to be so much to do; it was disappointing and a little overwhelming considering I have to move by the end of August. Wednesday was spent stressing about that and feeling out-of-sorts. I was hoping to just get in there, clean up some, and be done with it; I'm also fearful that this may turn into the house "fiasco" of last year when my father promised me the Calverton house and I waited months and didn't get it.

Today, Thursday, is all right. I managed to get my mind off the whole house thing for a while. Though last night my neighbors were being particularly stomp, stomp, stompy -- at half past midnight no doubt plus an extra special bang above my sleeping head at 4:30 AM. I don't know what their damage is, but it's annoying as fark (though the actual fark isn't really annoying). I should really go up their and just lambaste them, but maybe dead poultry tied to their door knocker would be more satisfying.

I got up this morning (as I have the past few days) and went to the park for my daily exercise. I have a pile of freelance work to do, but I figured I should update my weblog first. So, while I eat a little breakfast, I'm going to write-up my past weekend. (Last night, in search of some comfort food, I made some rice porridge and Asian cucumber salad. Add a little ground, dried fish and I'm a little kid again.)

So, back in time we go. The end of last week was all right. Thursday night, I actually went downtown to Alchemy at Nation. Shawn drove; Skinner came, too. I hadn't been down to the club in months. I had a good time. I drank too much too fast. I ran into a woman, Christine, whom I hadn't seen in years. I got to schmooze with my favorite DC bartenders -- Jay and Vickie. I got to ogle cute little goth-industrial boys. I even managed to talk to one, Dave, who I thought was the cutest there. He walked by a couple of times before I waved him over. I asked him what he was looking for (cause he seemed to be in search mode), and he said he was looking for another drink. So, I bought the guy a drink -- a pitcher of cheap beer, in fact. He was grateful. We chatted. He was totally cute. He volunteered that he was not gay (though he complained that every woman he's ever met has asked him at some point whether he was sure about his sexuality). Can I pick them or what? We left around midnight because Shawn had to work early the next day. I did manage to get a goodnight kiss on the cheek from David before I went home.

The next day, last Friday, I woke up hungover. Big surprise. I didn't go to the park that day. I managed to pull myself out of bed, get cleaned up, and headed over to my friend Meredith's house to help her move. Meredith just bought a townhouse in Bowie, MD. She needed to get her condo in Greenbelt, MD packed up and over to the new place last weekend. I got to her house after noon and the house was a mess. Movers were handling all the furniture. We had to get the rest. A bunch of us loaded up our respective vehicles and hauled everything over to the Bowie house. It took a couple of trips with nearly a dozen cars. It would have been easier if everything was packed up and ready to go. Unfortunately, a lot of stuff was still loose. I ended up packing up most of the kitchen in trash bags. But it got done, and Meredith got moved. It was an exhausting day.

Saturday was Archaea. It was a warm day. We had a bunch of new players. And the adventure was very time consuming. But I think folks had a good time. I had fun, but walked away a little frazzled. To tax my creative energies even further, that night, we played Call of Cthulhu.

And to add more to my imaginative load, Sunday past we played Tellings. It was weekend chock full of role-playing games.

That was my weekend. Though I have had a great deal on my social calendar, I have been feeling a bit unsettled lately, a little disquieted. Mostly, I've felt lonely and a bit isolated. A lot is on my mind, I guess, and in that space I tend to see things around me from a distance, out-of-touch. For example, I am very happy for Meredith and her new house, and I am just a bit jealous of the fact that she has a place of her own -- the second home she's bought. And I wonder why am I not at that place in my life? For example, my friends Shawn and Christine just announced their wedding date for this coming November. They have been together since high school and have a wonderful daughter. I am happy for them and their little family. And I wonder why I haven't found my partner and started my family? Or, finally, I have been accepted to graduate school, I have teaching secured for the fall, and I am on the road to finishing this chapter of my lifes. But I wonder if this really is what I want to do, what I need to do.

I don't know. I guess I'll just have to figure it out as I go. Until then I have a few suggestions for diversion or consideration:

• Oppose the Federal Marriage Amendment. Support the right of every person, including LGBT couples, to marry.

• If you live in the eastern United States, there is the "do not call" hotline 1-888-382-1222 or website. Eventually, everyone across the US will be able to register their phone numbers to prevent unsolicited telemarking calls.

• Listen to Jets to Brazil.

• Watch MythQuest, a show about two teenagers, brother and sister, exploring different myths and stories. I am totally hooked. I wish I had this kind of TV when I was a kid.

• Also watch Bravo's Queer Eye for the Straight Guy. It's absolutely fabulous -- of course -- and quite funny. I hope it can sustain its kitschy, campy, pop cultury quality. Also tune in next Tuesday for the premiere of Boy Meets Boy, a new spin on reality TV dating. I'm not sure it's going to be "good," but it'll definitely be interesting to see how the concept plays out.

• Read my friend Scott's online lit mag Slurry Magazine.

• Save Sluggy. Buy a Trogdor shirt.

That's all for now. I guess I'll get back to some semblance of work.

(And, the new He-Man is hot, by the way!)

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TUESDAY. 11:57 AM. Noontime. I have plans to have lunch with my young friend Michael, but I'm not sure it's happening. I'm not in any hurry, so I'll just wait to see if he calls me.

I just got back from an hour and a half of tennis with my father and my sister. It was fun. The game is a lot more fun when you're playing with someone rather than just hitting balls off a practice board. So, I am well exercised for the day.

The past weekend was pretty quiet. Last Thursday night, I went down to Nation again. I went with Christine; we were conveniently chauffered by our young friend Greg, who is under twenty-one and is glad to be the designated driver. The raison d'etre for the evening was for my older friend Michael's 30th birthday. The night was punctuated by a great deal of drinking. I had fun.

David, who I met the week before, was there. He was clad in all black -- black pants, tight black tank. He is hot, very hot, complete with muscles that were not readily apparent the first time I met him. He was very sweet and flirty. We chatted a bit, shared some beer, and wandered around the club. He let me give him a backrub to which he said, "No girl could do that." I admit that I'm a little taken with the lad. He's far too young and clearly not batting or ready to bat for my team. I did get a goodnight smooch and his email address. Nothing may come of it save for innocent flirtation -- but that can be fun and definitely diverting. David seems like a good guy; I hope he takes it all in stride. Of course, that night, he had to utter the infamous phrase: "If only you were a girl."

What do you say to that? "If only you liked boys?"

Friday was quiet. Friday night was even quieter. Most of my time has been spent working on stuff for my client or spent working on the revision of Tellings.

Saturday was quiet. Saturday night, a bunch of us went up to the consumer-whoring Arundel Mills for a little dinner, a little people watching (the teenage punk in the short mohawk was my favorite), and Boob Raider. The movie was all right -- matinee quality -- though Scottish hottie Gerard Butler was very nice to look at.

Sunday was quiet. We didn't play Tellings. Though, I worked on Tellings for most of the day. I played a little tennis with my sister. And my friend Scott came up to take a look at the townhouse. My sister, Scott, and I did a walk through of the place. He thinks the place could be fixed up with a couple weeks of hard labor, and he's even willing to help. There is some wood rot in the floors on the first floor. Hopefully, we'll be able to rip out sections, repair, and replace without too much difficulty. The kitchen pretty much needs to be gutted from the countertops down. And the basement needs to be demolished, cleaned, and painted. This go around we found an old car transmission in the basement under the stairs. Lovely. That needs to get hauled out and dumped along with the archaic refrigerator in the basement that's just collecting bugs like a giant roach motel.

Yesterday was another Monday, another day. The month is almost over. Crazy. I went out for my morning exercise. The the rest of the morning was spent getting a 2.25" x 1" black-and-white advertisement done for my client to be placed in The New Yorker. Later in the evening, Skinner came over. We ended up going up to Bethesda to see Shawn, who works as a vet tech at NIH. We got to see the pigs, dogs, rabbits, rats, and mice with which he works. It's an interesting place. Then Skinner and I had dinner at T.G.I. Fridays.

Life has been quiet. Interesting, but quiet. (Except for my upstairs neighbors who kept me up till 1 AM last night with their incessant galloping around. I really should do something about it. I really should.)

I talked to my father today. Plans have been set into motion to get the house ship shape and Bristol fashion. He's going to take care of the plumbing issues and hopefully replacement windows. I'm basically in charge of everything else. I want to get in there and get to work on the place. I think once the process is started, I'll feel a bit more confident about the whole mess.

I might try to go over to the townhouse this afternoon. I'm not sure yet. Definitely tomorrow. Ah well. I'll figure it out eventually.

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THURSDAY. 10:01 AM. End of the month. That means time to pay bills. That means only one month left before school starts and teaching starts. That means only one month to get packed up. That means only one month to fix up the townhouse. That means only one month before everything changes.

I feel like Zoe. See above. (Sluggy is saved, by the way. Good for Pete!)

I did get a reasonably good night's sleep last night. My neighbors, it seems, have gone on vacation or something. They left very early yesterday morning and never came back. Their car is in the parking lot. I didn't hear them all day or all night. I went up a couple of times and knocked. Ironic, isn't it? I want to talk to them about their noise, and they've taken their noise with them.