The house is empty. No one, save myself, is there. It is glorious. My car is parked in the middle of the lot, cutting off all other spaces; I can play my stereo with the volume set as high as I like; and I can have my door open without the constant threat of vapid interruptions. This is Paradise.

Especially because it will be quite a while before I can afford a place as large as the house for just me. It will be great to eventually live on my own, but even then I won't have the space to spread out that I am enjoying this week.

The down side of this freedom is that I shall be infuriated when the Idiot Brigade returns, as they must. Alas, woe is me. The nice thing is that I will be afforded a legitimate reason to be surly. Woo hoo!

Uncle Jerry left today. He is journeying to Atlanta to attend a wedding and will be gone most of next week. Ann Arbor will be a drearier place for his absence. Lindsay is gone, too, interviewing for grad school in Arizona, California, and Massachusetts. Of course, they'll both be gone next year. Looks like more comic books again for me.

I'm sorry this page is already vapid.

I'm supposed to be writing the lean, mean version of my column right now, but I've got writer's block. My colleagues and I put together a small publication titled "The Newsletter." We each have a column and though mine is now past due, I am feeling no inspiration whatsoever. Curses!