What I’m reading: Finished The Good Rat, by Jimmy Breslin, continuing Strange and Stranger: The World of Steve Ditko, by Blake Bell, and getting back to reading Montaigne’s essays.
What I’m listening to: my iPod, endlessly shuffling among 13,000 or so songs.
What I’m watching: Fourth season of The Wire, and The Dark Knight, over at the Imax at the Palisades Center.
What I’m drinking: a rosé that my wife picked up on Saturday, and Stella Artois. Not at the same time.
What Rufus is up to: Around 6 hours on his own upstairs when I’m out! I’m still hesitant to leave him out of his crate for my full 9-hour workday, and I keep him upstairs so he doesn’t meander around down in the library, where he’s less familiar. But he seems to have figured out that he shouldn’t drink a lot of water when he’s alone in the house.
Where I’m going: Nowhere special
What I’m happy about: I’m not sure, but I’m generally elated at present. I feel a little bad that I’ve neglected friends I need to write to, but maybe I’ll have time and motivation to fix that this week.
What I’m sad about: The deaths of Bernie Mac and Isaac Hayes.
What I’m pondering: The irony that the Yankees’ healthiest and most productive pitchers this season are 38 and 36 years old.