Last night I had an oddly specific dream that I met a guy named Caleb Arndt from Reykjavik, Iceland.  We dated for four months (in dream time) and then broke up, so he went home.  I don’t know anyone by that name, or anyone from Reykjavik (unfortunately).  I wish I knew what my subconscious was up to.

My weekend in Charlotte was lovely!  I got together with my family on Sunday and we attempted to eat downtown–almost everything was closed, but we were ultimately victorious.  Afterwards Ed showed us his hilarious video diary from his roadtrip to California.  The boys were going by Connor and Vernon, for unspecified reasons.  Maybe the video is less funny if you’re not related to him, but I found it pretty entertaining.  On Monday I hung out with friends and an absurdly adorable chocolate lab puppy in Kannapolis, so the weekend really couldn’t have been better.

It was a bizarre, short little week, having Monday off for Labor Day and Thursday off for the Feast of Trumpets.  I have no idea what day it is now, but I’m told it’s the weekend again.  On Sunday I’m going to see my roommate act in The Spyglass Seven, a one-act play about Edgar Allan Poe.  Should be pretty cool!

Several tiny tragedies occurred this week.  My popcorn popper perished, which for me is nothing short of catastrophic.  Fortunately Target had a sturdy replacement.  Fixing my car’s CD player is going to be a little more difficult.  It’s started to skip or get stuck on a loop more and more frequently.  The CD player is odd–it’s actually set into the armrest, underneath a cover, even though the controls are on the dash like usual.  When it gets stuck on a loop, banging the armrest usually fixes the problem, which is fine except that other drivers have been giving me very strange looks when they see me pounding on my seat like a maniac.

Geekery:

Miscellany:

Music:

Books: I’m reading End of the Drive by Louis L’Amour, another of his posthumously published short story collections.  This one features quite a few shorts, written in the early days, that L’Amour later turned into novels.  Seeing how his writing developed (and how much better he became over time) is interesting, and the stories are still enjoyable even if several aren’t terribly well-written.  Nice little brain break.

Advertisements