The thermometer is expected to reach 90 in Seattle today. And that's Celsius so you know that it should be a scorcher.

Last night, I dreamed that I was in a class being taught by Garrison Keillor. I scored an 85 on the test, but the bastard still only gave me a C. Despite my vehement protests, he wasn't budging. When you realise that only one's imagination defines the limits of dreams, such a dream as the one from last night seems all the more pathetic.



I learned a lesson this week and don't let anyone tell you any differently: real estate advice from a barely-clothed stripper is far more worthwhile than from any webite. Even so, Seattle's housing prices are positively frightening especially for what I could afford.

Imperialism is obviously insidious, but I'll admit that I did like this design when Homer Simpson wore it on his shirt on Ipanema Beach.



I'm watching a jittery group of pigeons eating crumbs left by a neighbour. As group of crows is called a murder, what is a group of pigeons called, anyway? Oh, I should have just asked Dorwayin from the start, shouldn't I?

My parents have now placed their house in Maine for sale. Once they move, my trips to the Pine Stree State will likely slow dramatically and I lament that.

I'm needing a haircut at the moment. Perhaps I should replicate the time in which, the day before school photos were taken, I tried doing it myself? Granted, it didn't work so well the first time around, but the "law of averages" says that it's bound to improve with another try.



This morning's Honey Nut O's entailed a gustatorily satisfying breakast.

By the way, the photos in this post have no relevance to anything I wrote in here. I added them solely to spice up what is a rather unremarkable blog entry.

Five more days of work before the much-anticipated trip to Los Angeles and, as of a few days ago, Catalina, too. That's to what I'm most looking forward in the week ahead. How about you?