I've been keeping a journal. Not as religiously as I would like. In the front I have a page filled with book titles of potential summer reads. UNDERLINE IF READ, it says. 9 are underlined. 17 are not. The rest of the pages are ideas. Poems. Bits of dialogue. Questions. "What's with our obsessions with violence? When did viewing mutilated bodies become okay? And how do exotic dancers do it without laughing?"

My phone is charged 82% and I finished 1 book last night. There are 26 minutes left on the drier filled with Daniel's work clothes, and 7 items on my list of items to get -- 2 have question marks. It's 11:46 in the morning and my shorts go down less than 1/3 of my leg. There are 3 CDs dangling from purple string on the balcony with the purpose of scaring away 2 pigeons. I think they're working.

"Everyone is getting married young," someone told me.

"I don't think anyone should feel guilty about anything," somebody else told me.

I'm inclined to disagree with both. I was told to NEVER write a sentence that implies that EVERYONE does SOMETHING ALL of the time.

I was also told NEVER to use all capitals.