Between episodes of sleep on the plane, I read a lot of The Brief History of the Dead. I was shocked to find it in the Cincinnati Northern Kentucky airport Border's and am less surprised to find it compellingly readable.
Because I toughed it out and took the bus back into town I decided that it was fair to spend money on concert tickets for the distant future and new CDs (Thom Yorke's and Sufjan Stevens's, undecided-to-good, particularly as they're both extras reels of sorts) for listening to right now while I'm putting laundry in the machines, cropping photos, and eating. The last time I used my dining room table for a typing surface I discovered a naked neighbor, tonight I discoverd that I can see planes flying over in the reflection from my window.
When I got home I noticed a few ants in my kitchen; so obviously I had to spray toxic chemicals on a few shelves. Except I didn't really think about clearing out the rest of the cupboard until much later, after my kitchen smells like poison. Now I'm sort of torn between washing a lot of things that I rarely use or just waiting until I forget that they're possibly contaminated with something that could theoretically make me ill.