2:27 AM

Because I am horrible at accruing interest on my paychecks, I could only delay buying the print of Cousteau for six hours. I'm going to try to do a better job of holding off on the one of Woody Guthrie, but I'm making no promises.
I took a nap from 9 to midnight tonight, which was glorious except that I woke up to fifteen missed calls and text messages from several different people, an empty apartment and the realization that I'd spent my wild Friday night buying art and sleeping.
Actually, I really like being home alone on Friday and Saturday nights because it means I get to watch all of the obnoxious party-goers teeter home, drunk and loud, from the window. It turns out I like them a lot more when I don't have to speak to them, what with their surprise piggy-backing and bottle-smashing. The best thing is when they fight in the street, which happens quite often. If they stay long enough and enough of their friends try to break it up, the police come, and I sit on the porch with a drink.
Italian vegetable soup is perhaps my favorite post-nap delight. Judging by the rustling coming from the trash bag in the kitchen, I think it's safe to say our mouse agrees.