I'm beginning to lose track of what day of the week it is. I was warned this might happen. Even during my workless weeks in New York I was surrounded by employed friends and neighbors who provided some clues about the schedule the rest of the world was following. Now it's sort of like being in a Vegas casino where shiny lights fill the gaps where windows might normally be, veiling all reminders of the outside world. That world where you pay bills, have a job and probably were supposed to be home hours ago.

Well, Baltimore isn't quite Vegas and I suppose we should be happy for that. We've spent the past few days with Anthony's parents, waiting to hear the mechanic's prognosis for our aging, ailing Vanagon. There's a big pile of stuff dumped on the basement floor, daunting us, waiting for a verdict about whether and how it will be stowed in the Badunkadunk. I'm fairly certain we won't have room for the dozens of books and DVDs we've gathered, but then again the Badunkadunk does have abundant nooks and crannies for such small objects. It just might work.

Got my video camera back from the repair shop today, via Oxygen, but, sadly, essential parts are missing. This is just one of the two customer service battles I've been losing since November. The other one is with ClubMac. Hate to admit these guys are disproving my long-held theory that you get better results by being nice rather than irate. My nice-guy tactics are working, it's just taking forever. I mean, c'mon. Three months for ClubMac to send me some RAM that was missing from the powerbook I bought? I think my nice-guy window is just about closed.