Today the desk isn't hard enough...

...to make banging my head on it satisfactory.

It's been one of those days.

It's been a while.

It's been a while since I've posted. Some days when I start to blog I stop myself and think, "Who would want to read about that?" Then there are days like today, when I don't care if anyone wants to read my drivel or not. If I don't get rid of it, it will puddle at my feet. Instead, I choose to share my drivel with you.

It's interesting that "drivel" contains the word "drive," because driving is something else I hadn't done in a while. I finally had an opportunity to drive tonight. Wasn't I pleased with myself when Scott dozed off in the passenger seat. Normally he is stressed out, hyper alert and grouchy when I'm in the driver's seat. I figured that I couldn't be doing too badly if he was comfortable enough to doze while I drove. I smiled fondly and watched him, with his head tipped back, his mouth ajar, snoring softly.

"STOP!" Scott yelled suddenly. Somehow he had emerged from the depths of his slumber just in time to holler at me as we approached an intersection. He feared that I was going to ignore the traffic lights and race ahead recklessly. As if.

Scott soon fell back to sleep, only waking up periodically to point out my mistakes. I took one turn a bit too wide and hit the curb during another, my lane changes were jerky and my deceleration was rapid enough that the dogs slid around in the back of the vehicle. It could have been worse. I know, because I've done worse.

As we approached the driveway at the end of our half-hour ride, Scott instructed me to pull in front first. He had interrupted his nap so many times that he was too irritable to tolerate my clumsy attempts at reversing into place. I complied, turning smoothly into the driveway. As annoyed as Scott appeared, I remained satisfied with my performance. I got out of the car, having left plenty of room to swing open the door. On my side of the vehicle, that is. As for Scott, he practically had to reenact his birth to squeeze out of the car, as I had parked dangerously close to the house. That did not improve his mood any. But like I said, it could have been worse.

I wasn't going to do it.

I wasn't going to write a post about Michael Jackson. Sure, I had the Thriller album, and I even composed a letter to him when his hair caught on fire while filming a Pepsi commercial, but I wasn't his biggest fan. Still, I had to post the video below.

Click here for more information on the dancing inmates.

What is art?

Thanks to Ze Frank for tweeting about this.

P.S. Happy Fourth to my American friends and relatives!