And on the Seventh Day...

I'm bushed.

Most of the sodbusting is done. I've been attacking it in short shifts then resting. Another hour's work and it'll be ready for amending then planting. Huzzah. I think once this is all done I'll have rescaped about 1500 square feet. Half was done last year and seems to be thriving, though I need to get in and weed and remulch some areas.

Is there some Twilight Zone that books go into, akin to the limbo of lost socks? I've had a couple of books in hand within the last 72 hours and I cannot find them. At all. I've checked everywhere and they're gone. Maybe the cats have decided to cart them off by the spine to nurture and brood in some little den.

I've got a new book order in the works: J Allyn Rosser's Misery Prefigured, Peter Pereira's What's Written on the Body, Geri Doran's Resin, and Janet Sylvester's The Mark of Flesh.

Went last night to hear my friends Boyd and Eric perform. Highlights included: "I Could Never Take The Place Of Your Man," "Let's Get It On" and "I Wanna Be Your Dog." Good times, though I begged off about 12:30. Sigh. 3 drinks and tired by 12:30. Positively embarrassing. The company was grand. It was nice to just unleash the snark. I really need to go out more.