[Insert Clever Title Here]

Well, that was going to be the name of today’s entry. Two things got in the way of my being able to use such a clever little title. The temperature is supposed to go up to 80 degrees Fahrenheit, setting a new local record for this date. And maintenance has apparently fixed my heat pump in my office, though I really won’t know until the next chilly day. Since “Warm hands, warm heart” just doesn’t have the same ring to it, I’ll have to come up with some other clever heading for today’s entry.

If I do come up with a clever title (and the verdict is still out as of this point of my composition) then it will probably be the only clever thing about this entry. I find myself lacking in things worthy of the electrons it will take to type them out. The weekend was fine, but somewhat short on noteworthy events – at least those I can write about in a PG diary.

We did go to the movies again Saturday night, at that little arts theater not far from us. They were playing “Sylvia” and “Lost in Translation”. I gave The Socialist a choice of which to see, since I wanted to see both, and he chose “Lost in Translation,” with Bill Murray. It had been billed as a comedy, and did indeed have a few really funny scenes like the one where the director of the commercial takes three minutes to say something in Japanese and the translator then tells Bill Murray’s character that the director wants him to look to the left. The film had its serious side as well though, and that side was the driving force behind the movie. It was well worth seeing, but was definitely not a film for someone who wants a clear-cut ending of the *boy-meets-girl, boy-loses-girl, boy-gets-girl-back-and-they-live-happily-ever-after* variety.

We grabbed a take out dinner at one of the few Boston Markets still left standing in our neck of the woods. What the heck happened there, anyhow? For a while that chain made rabbits look infertile, with a new one springing up every week or so. They suddenly seemed to implode as fast as the construction explosion occurred, only in reverse. Now there are only two left within a semi-reasonable driving distance from us. Why oh why couldn’t it have happened to McDonald’s instead of Boston Market?

I was up quite late Saturday night/Sunday morning, and ended up sleeping until mid-afternoon. I went out to get myself some lunch (the Socialist had long since left in search of his own nourishment), and when I returned, parked myself on the sofa in the living room, legs propped up like I’m supposed to do, but never actually do. O’beast took advantage of the opportunity and camped out on my upper legs and stomach (he’s a big cat!). Kitten saw the two of us there, got jealous, and camped out on my chest. We stayed that way for fifteen minutes or so, until I lost feeling in my legs and had trouble breathing because of the brick lying on my lungs. I kicked the pair of them off of me, and retired to my room to play Snoods for a bit.

You know it’s a slow day when the highlight to report is the cats going to sleep on top of me.

With luck, today is going to be one more slow day, though I suspect my luck has run out. People on the other side of the company are still in frantic panic mode, and sooner or later I figure I’m going to get sucked into the frenzy. For now I’m just hoping my potion of invisibility continues to work, and laying low.

A certain Socialist’s birthday is coming up in a few weeks, and I did spend some quality time on my computer Saturday trying to track down a few items I knew he was looking for. To my delight, I found one of the items (after nearly three-quarters of an hour of hunting) and stumbled over another item that I know he wants, or at least would want if he knew it existed. I’ve been taunting him with that all weekend.