Paint the black hole blacker

I encountered more than a few aggressive drivers on my way to and from work today and, consequently, almost got into more than a few accidents. How I sidestepped them, I can't say for sure-- probably has something to do with intelligence, impeccable skill, and a mastery over body functions -- but I will absolve myself of any guilt in the matter. I freely admit I've nearly caused an accident or two before, but today had nothing to do with me. There are just days when you encounter this type of thing, I guess.

As I crested the short and steep hill of Liberty Ave during the last stretch of my run today, I saw a woman, pretty and pure, down the hill ahead of me standing on the sidewalk and gazing up a small tree with a smile born from wonder on her face. When I got closer, I discovered she was smiling at some birds congregating around a feeder hung from one of the branches. She looked over at me, smile intact, and I returned the expression. It was a nice moment.

When it became certain the Celtics weren't in the fighting spirit near the end of game seven, I shut the TV off. No sense in watching them surrender, tails between their legs. I had better things to do. They battled for most of two rounds -- overachieved, some say -- and showed some heart. This last game, though, they were tired and spent and didn't have the fire in the belly to close out the series. I think the thought of facing a healthy, rested, Lebron-led Cavaliers was too daunting.

Ah, there will be next year. Will KG come back from his mysterious injury, or is he just playing on old, worn-down, knees? Will Big Baby, Leon, Starbury, Mikki, TA, and Scals be back? Should be an interesting off-season. Stay tuned.

Irritants at work and at home these days, but I'm dealing with them. Life will always have its irritants. Man, that was profound. Don't believe it when they say I'm an obtuse, unsophisticated, petty man. Or at least the part about being obtuse.

My grandmother left some eggs boiling on the stove while she was on the phone. The smoke alarm went off and she didn't know what was going on. She called the Fire dept. and was told they were on their way and to get out of the house. When she realized the cause of the alarm, she called the fire dept. back but they were already on their way.

When they arrived, they spoke to her like she was five years old and when they left, she felt lousy about the experience. She told me she'd never done anything like that in her life. I told her everyone does stuff like that. "That's what everyone tells me", she said, "but I don't think so. It's because I'm old and forgetful."

A day after our conversation, I was in the kitchen making breakfast. I fried up an egg, poured some juice. I was talking with Janelle when the smell of smoke hit my nostrils. I looked around and didn't see any. I asked her if she smelled it. She did, but couldn't locate the source, either. Finally, I saw the cutting board on the stove and figured out what was going on. Sure enough, when I lifted it off the stove, the burner was still lit under it. From my fucking eggs! So, not only did I leave the burner on, but, in my infinite wisdom, placed a wood carving board over it. Good thing there wasn't lighter fluid hanging around -- I probably would have added it to the mix to really ensure the house burnt down.

I'll have to tell Nana this story, but she won't believe it. No one's that stupid, she'll tell me.

Season 5 of The Wire has been no different than prior seasons, which is to say it's been magnificent. McNulty is drinking again and causing trouble, Omar is on the war path, Chris and Snoop are as terrifying as ever, and Carcetti is getting it from all sides. I wish this show hadn't ended with this season.

Dreams about lakefronts and girlfriends. About police work and love. All murky and indistinct. I wish I could get a better hold of them. I feel they may have some prophetic value.

I have to call Mara back and email a book distributor and ask them where the fucking book I ordered eighteen days ago is.