It's a Barnum and Bailey world

In the past three days, I've had trouble with coffee. The first incident involved me brushing against a freshly brewed mug of the stuff and knocking it on the floor, where it quickly spread in all directions. I was amazed how such a small amount of liquid could cover such a wide area. I quickly grabbed some paper towels to clean up the mess, but soon discovered I'd be better off with a mop. After spending a good seven minutes looking for it---which frustrated me to no end because I had just seen it a day or two before---I gave up and went back to the paper towels.

On Saturday night, Kreg let me use his coffee maker and, as simple as the thing is to use, when I came back to the kitchen to pour a cup, the coffee had spilled all over the unit and onto the floor. And there were coffee grounds everywhere, to boot. Still don't know how that happened.

And yesterday, I repeated the first incident, only this time it occurred in my bedroom and the coffee spilled all over my legs and into my shoes. As I had just taken a shower, I wasn't thrilled to have sticky coffee all over me, but at least it had a pleasant aroma.

Some will tell you that I'm a klutz---namely Spira---but I vehemently disagree. I'm coordinated like an orangutan and that's why this coffee business is so beguiling. I've had a few cups since without incident, so maybe I've got it out of my system.
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Luke Warm came over the other night and he, Kreg, and I watched the Celtic's first preseason game. I took more joy from it than it, than I did from most of last year's regular season games because it was the first time we got to see the new lineup. Seeing KG, Ray Allen, Paul Pierce, James Posey, and the rest of the cast was thrilling. Amazing how much the team has changed from last year. Can't wait for the season to begin.

I've watched some of the baseball playoffs, usually when Kreg or Rich are watching, and though I'm not an ardent fan of the sport, I can appreciate it. I'm a long way, however, from adopting the fanatical approach to the game, or more accurately to the Red Sox, that most people in New England are fevered with. Whenever I tell anyone I'm not that into the Sox, I'm always afraid I'll get a beating, but I usually just get a look that asks " What the fuck is your problem?".
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I didn't do too much today except read, which was how I planned it. I read from David Ray Griffin's book Debunking 9/11 Debunking and from The Hunt for the Skinwalker, a book about the high strangeness that occurred on a Utah ranch through the nineties. Very bizarre. So far it reminds me of a cross between The Mothman Prophecies and The Amityville Horror. Between the two books, I suspect my dreams tonight will be nothing short of fucked up.