operation enduring bewilderment

[phosfate]

Just...odd. After having the bejeezus scared out of her by a receptionist who phoned up and told her that it was really really important that she not miss her appointment, leading to bad-sitcom visions of iminent death from some sort of anthrax-infested brain tumour working its way up from her lungs, Mom's two-day checkup had, as usual, Doctor Wossname marveling at her revolting good health, pay the lady on the way out. Computer network was down at work, leaving the inmates wandering the corridors all adrift, bewildered and gently bumping off the walls. Buttload of really cool stuff in the mail (three shitajiki - and if I told you how little I paid for them, you'd dismember me and put the bits in the milkbox on the porch - four books, two pins, and even interesting junk mail), deep-clearance books at NE Book at lunchtime (in spite of the Scary Yelling Guy Who Thinks He's Friendly and Outgoing and Must Die Horribly who now presides over the book department). It's the beginning of November and the temperature is brushing 70. Bugs of all sorts are hatching and coming in the house to ask how the basketbal playoffs are going, meeting brutal disappointment head-on when they find that not only has the World Series only just ended, but we're lying in wait to squish their exoskeletoned asses.

And now we're waiting for the aurora. Not the airship, the real one. Out of the sky. That doesn't ever come down this far, but is threatening to stretch its little glowing fingers clear down to the prairie. Gotta wait 'til after 11:00 when the sodium lights in the parking lot across the street are turned off. I'm pretending I'm not excited.

And Atlantis is at the dollar theater.