My goodness, I have done nothing all weekend, nada, zip, zilcho. Except I cooked a real-live dinner last night. And walked with Doug to Harvard Square this afternoon to eat a hamburger and buy some gifts for my Secret Pal. And watched a movie so awful, to repeat its name might curse my bloodline for seven generations.

Mostly, I sat on the sofa and read other people’s websites and caught up on some lifehacks (though I haven’t essayed a skim through the 225 BoingBoing posts that’s piled up — it’s worse than The New Yorker). After a conversation about authors and literary characters who drowned themselves, I spent several minutes staring at my bookshelves trying to remember Kate Chopin’s name (”I think it’s Katherine something, maybe there’s a J involved, I’m pretty sure I have the book I’m thinking of, was it a Penguin paperback?”) I was so satisfied to finally remember the author’s name that I pulled down The Awakening and started to reread it. Falling asleep twice while reading it had nothing to do with the vitality of the story and everything to do with fighting off some virus. And maybe a little irony. (At least Doug didn’t take a picture of me sacked out on the couch with The Awakening splayed on my chest and submit it to Chicks Do the Darnedest Things™.)

Some things that made me happy this weekend include:

• The steady clatter of acorns falling on the sidewalk and front walk, occasionally punctuated by deeper thuds when they land on an SUV parked underneath the oak tree.
• With the return of the students and the weather still warm enough to allow open windows, interesting snippets of converstation drift by:
  • Slurring girl: “He looks psycho. Just psycho. He looks like — like he could come around the block and shoot us, with a shotgun.”
  • Drawling dude: “Not to mention, the bassline, lends itself to, to a 100% funk-slap bassline.”
• One of our neighbors has recently gotten a drum kit, and listening to him (her) practice (or better yet — “jam” with a friend on guitar) is just about the best thing ever. Seriously, this person (let’s just assume it’s a guy in his early 20s who has a not-very-convincing mustache) sounds like he really hopes someday to be introduced to the concept of even rhythm, but for now, he’ll make something up and batter out some “fills” every few bars or so. Doug said, “It’s like the Shaggs have moved next door.”
• I stumbled on this Wendy’s training video from the 1980s that really is too awesome for words. (Emended to properly attribute said stumblage to the eternally rad sweetney.)
• NEW CALLA RECORD IN JUST OVER A WEEK.