pensees, in reverse chronological order

I just selected all the messages in my work Inbox and dumped them into an archive file. My empty Inbox gives me the illusion of achievement. Quiet satisfaction.

Last night after the nice policemen woke me to let me move my car instead of having it towed, I was curled up in bed listening to the clock tick. All of a sudden Claire, who had snored through the entire episode, kicked me in the scapula and said very clearly: “Daddy.” I looked over. She was still asleep.

For some reason she likes to sleep on her face, arms folded, butt in the air.

Yesterday evening, as the thought of cooking and eating yet another meal for just me and Claire was filling me with silent horror, Jamey called and invited us over for tofu curry. I grabbed the Delicato shiraz and threw the baby in the Jetta before Jamey could change her mind. The wine was great and the curry, superb.

Yesterday Bryan and Shannon went to inspect a house perfectly situated half a block from ours. Unfortunately, as Bryan observed, this house will stay on the market until the owner finds another elderly gay funeral-home fetishist to take it on.

I wonder whether it will open as a tiny B&B, by and by?

One thing I particularly like about Breakfast with Enzo is that Enzo doesn’t smile unless there’s some concrete reason to do so. I can’t bear so-called children’s entertainers who leer at the kids the whole time. They’re hiding something.

Home Remedies on Valencia is closing, snif, but I bought the last two Cornish Blue mugs at 20% off. Also the last two pairs of 12-18 month Robeez for Rowan and Claire. “Pink for girls and blue for boys,” I thought, then, “wait, NO. Cats for Claire and rabbits for Rowan.” “I can’t believe you got him pink bunny slippers!” said Carole. “That is SO COOL!”

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