I turned 25 on Friday. I threw a party. Some people came, some did not. Whatever. I did see some folks I hadn't seen in forever-and-a-half, and that was great. And there were some "new" people that I'd like to see more often. I've been very dissatisfied lately, with a frightening number of things. I've been thinking about what people must say about me when I'm not around, and I'm becoming convinced that they don't say much about me at all. I feel boring.

In other news, all those books I checked out from the library for my vacation in July (dwarfling) are still sitting around my apartment. I've been done with them all for weeks and weeks, but haven't gotten around to taking them back to the library. I hope none of you are waiting on them to show up again. The library in Dayton used to send pink notices when books were overdue. Alma mater would send campus mail, I suppose it's email now. Chicago sends nothing. See, no one cares about your humble narrator, not even large, under-funded institutions owed thousands of pages of literature.

What else? I have some buttons left over from the party. Interested readers should email me with postal addresses, and I'll throw one in the mail for you, no questions asked. The kitchen is still a mess, but I've managed to clean the other two rooms up, and I've done most of the dishes. Going to have to wash the kitchen floor, when it's all said and done.

Work's great. So I've got that going for me. Sorry for the depressive tone of this note, but you know, this is what's going on.