walking in the breakdown lane

Behind me thunder mounts as trucks of cattle
roar over, faces pressed to slats for air.
They go on, they go on without me.
They pound, pound and bawl,
until the road closes over them farther on.

My computer has a very primitive and loud ventilation system. But Xander has discovered it, and whenever I'm using the computer, he's sitting right next to me pressing his nose to the vent that blows the hot air. He gets this weird look of extreme enjoyment on his face, and he lets his tongue hang out. It's kind of hilarious. I tried doing it, too, just to see what all the fuss was about. But I think the answer is he lives the empty life of an indoor cat. But I pretty much do, too, so don't be surprised if when you come, Ginny, and we're thinking of things to do, I excitedly say "wanna press our noses to the air vent of my laptop?"

Okay, this weekend's Veronica Mars withdrawl has been helped by finding another addiction, which is a song called "By the Skin of my Yellow Country Teeth." I liked it just ok on the first two listenings. But each time I listen to it, it gains a little more momentum. It's snowballing, I guess you would say. Soon some kind of critical mass will be reached, but what will happen at that point I wonder? What I really need to do is go get the Belle and Sebastian CD, if I want a new obsession that lasts longer than 5 minutes, 45 seconds per revolution.

I think Housemate V is building something in the back yard (what's he building in there?). I haven't asked. Housemate N is in Arkansas. It's just me and Housemate X in here, really.

Yesterday, due to my sleeping till 4pm, I missed a gymnastics tournament I'd been thinking of going to. There will be others, I suppose.

Now the rest of my fun weekend will be filled with work, both offices. Mom suggested I play tennis. No, I suggested I play tennis and Mom seconded it. It is almost 3pm, and nothing has been down about either work or tennis. Except I do have 6 brand new tennis balls (not pictured in last update, as green sandals were similarly not pictured, I realize), none of which can be nicknamed "Einstein" by my tennis opponent.

• from walking in the breakdown lane, louise erdrich