I'm listening to Napalm Death in KC's bedroom waiting for the dryer to finish. He's upstairs making pork burgers and corn niblets for dinner. I like his place. I don't even mind that it feels like we are living in the servants' quarters. The basement floor is covered th linoleum and you can feel the grooves and hills of the dirt underneath. The ceilings are low and the main part of the house is accessed by ascending a steep staircase into the kitchen.

I'm getting used to the midget baths. I'd say it's about a third of the size of my tub. It's shallow and short. The ceiling slants over it, meaning I have to remember to duck as I stand to get out. Today I finally got to use a towel for pretty much the first time since I got home. I used a towel in the motel in Antigonish. Today I got to use my own.

I didn't mean to spend the whole weekend here, but I fully enjoyed it. I do want and need to stop putting off organizing my room. I can see in my mind how I'd like to put it together. It's just a matter of spending enough time there to actually do it. And last week I was sick and tired.

Friday was a nice little spontaneous gathering upstairs. I had planned to go to the Gunts n' Roses show last night, but I'd foolishly thrown my money away on booze Thursday on the way home from work. So, we accepted an invitation to hang out in the studio and reach a common ground with El Torpedo. I spent a lot of my time sorting the hundreds of pictures I've taken since Dog Day's birth so I can soon start posting them. Which reminds me, it's almost Valentine's Day. For the last few years we've played a show on the 14th, but this year we are not. I wonder what we will do instead to celebrate our anniversary.

Two years ago I was feeling a lot worse than I do now, and even entertained awful ideas of what to do to myself.