This is the cool artistic sushi I was trying to tell you about the other day. I ate some on Monday. It was just okay.

This is Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince at Costco. 🙂

I’ve been home sick from work today and yesterday. My nose is a veritable fountain, and I feel like I have a fever, though it doesn’t register on the thermometer. I’ve been sleeping a lot and venturing downstairs to eat and whine.

Yesterday I got my White Castle cheeseburgers out of the freezer for lunch. I tore one end off the box, and four cheeseburgers came out. There are supposed to be six in a box, and I wanted six, and I was really put out. I cooked four, and I ate four, and I tore the side panel and the “contact us” information off the box, and I went to the website trying to find out how to complain.

I mentioned this to Lin. “There were only four! Why would that be?!”

Her response was, “Because I ate two of them and you opened the wrong end of the box?” Pause. “Really used to living alone, aren’t you?”

First, I just read one of the best newspaper retractions ever.

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2005/09/25/AR2005092501103.html

Second, I had a really nice birthday weekend. The crabfeast was lovely and small, and the evening was breezy and outside and just delightful. The right people stayed late and it was really nice. The moment that sticks most in my mind is David and I playing a bizarre breath-powered version of tabletop football with a mini peanut butter cup foil wrapper for no reason at all. He beat me senseless.

I wouldn’t let Lisa buy truffles at $299.99 a pound, so she tried to do a cartwheel for last week’s New Thing instead. On the front lawn, well after dark. The cartwheeling did not go well, so Pat took her around the block on the back of his motorcycle. New Thing. Check. Then I did it too. We probably only got up to about 35 miles an hour, but it felt really fast. I seriously can’t imagine how anyone can stand to use a motorcycle as their primary transportation, especially as a passenger. It wasn’t particularly scary, and I didn’t feel unsafe; it just wasn’t particularly comforting. Not like riding in a car at all. Plus, where do you plug in your mp3 player?

The Indian people who live in the apartment next to mine, whose deck shares access stairs with mine, have developed the habit of using my deck instead of their own. Mine is in the sun, and theirs is set back under the eave. Mine contains a nice chair and a small table, and theirs is full to brimming of tomato plants. The woman brings her little daughter (not much bigger than Max) over to my deck and lets her climb on my furniture (and mess up my satellite dish) and often even feeds her in my chair.

Until now my reaction to this has been exasperation and dirty looks. My deck overlooks trees. It’s relatively private, and I like it that way. The people who used to live in that apartment were invisible to me, and I liked that especially. I keep all my rear-facing window blinds wide open for the light, even though I know it’s not particularly secure, and I like to feel that I’m in a bubble. Looking out the window while I’m lying pantsless on the sofa and suddenly seeing a woman in a sari and her toddler daughter RIGHT THERE is so strange and invasive that it renders me shaking and speechless.

Today I got fed up with this and just went outside and said to her, “could you please use your own deck instead of mine? I just don’t understand why you’re always over here.” She fled. I hope to high heaven that’s the end of it. I hate hate hate hate confronting people.

If she comes back, I’m siccing Lin on her.