This weekend will never end, or if it does it will end in an explosion of tears and bruised knuckles and rocks flying through windows.

On Friday evening I was going to take a nap but ended up talking a walk in a light sprinkly sunshower, past these adorable kids who live down the street. They were out looking for my cat, which isn't really my cat, but a cat I see around sometimes, a cat that loves me. When I got home George called and I went out to meet everyone, and it was exactly the kind of room you want to walk into, and it just made me so happy. Dick was there. I hadn't seen him in a long, long time and he was the best fun. We played at being coupley, but it was only a game, and if he weren't moving very far away very soon we probably wouldn't have behaved like that. It does occur to me now though, that it could be nice to run away together to live in a cottage somewhere on his parents' land. It would be like Living In A Cabin In The Woods, which is my current second dream place to live, just behind Living In A Seaside Town and just ahead of Living At Niagara Falls. Actually, these all fall behind Living In Holland In The 1960s, but I've tried to restrict my list to things that I could figure out how to make happen.

Yesterday morning I found that my broken drawer had magically fixed itself, probably because I'd had such terrible dreams that the world thought it owed me something. Which reminds me, I slept! Easily, probably due in part to the fact that I loudly lulled myself into it by singing sad and funny songs to myself. It was pretty good. Yesterday afternoon I found those letters, but I won't get into that now, except to say that a combination of reading those letters and not having any idea what is what with K. probably doomed me somehow.

The distance between my Friday night and my Saturday night would be seventeen million miles if it could be charted out. Saturday night was a complete disaster in every way. Kind of. It was good when the man with the accent said, "Now you've seen the entire gamut of glasses we have to offer," and then it all went downhill. It's funny how when you're doing something entirely absurd, it can feel perfectly reasonable. Because once you start it you might as well commit to it and try to enjoy it as much as you can, but then afterwards it's hard to recognize yourself as the person who was doing those things. Which makes you think about how easy it is to be a person who isn't at all the person you thought you were, just by choosing B instead of A. And which person is really the better one anyway? These are the things I spent all day thinking about, the whole while having to remind myself that it isn't still Saturday. I still haven't exactly gone to sleep, but time doesn't care about that. Right now I'm supposed to be in Brooklyn again, but I'm calling a time out, and hopefully tomorrow will be a day that isn't trying to kill me. I'm going to sit quietly watching for raccoons, I don't care what anyone says. Goodnight.