And apparently Saturday night is the time for people to get drunk and wander the streets of Fremont in packs or in party vans with champagne. Some of the people wear exposed thongs that are visible when they squat to pet the dogs of dreadlocked men outside the PCC where we were having dessert. Most of them are annoying. Doesn't 8 seem early to be out drinking?
On the way home, the bus driver didn't stop for a kid in a chef shirt; so the kid sprinted around the block to the next stop. impressive.
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Earlier today I did laundry, playing video games and listening to the CDs that I bought yesterday (soundtracks from Lost In Translation and 28 Days Later, the new Swords Project) to pass the wash and drying cycles.
When that was finished, I walked the hound to Green Lake. We didn't go around the lake, since basset hounds really aren't optimized for long distance walking anyway. Going to and from the park was ambitious enough. While the dog rolled around in the grass and explored the perimeter allowed by the length of the leash, I read "For Esmé—with Love and Squalor" from Nine Stories. Then we walked home.
