Now playing: nothing yet, I just got out of the shower

So last night's was a bust, thanks to the good ol' hunk-o-junk that my computer still is, but c'est la vie. Tonight I set out for the sunset (ie the river) but laziness compelled me to the Western Shore instead. There was a beautiful view from Harford, a red crescent slowly disappearing into a fading pink sky. The moon was mysteriously hazy behind a thin veil of clouds, and the fireflies flashed their neon love as always. I couldn't help being surprised, both at the enduring quality of the firefly population and at my own pessimism for their duration. It always becomes more apparent how plentiful they were after they are gone, as it is with most things.

I've had several conversations now with a rather large spider in my shower; he was there this morning, apparently just out to bed because after I finally left him in rather humid peace, he didn't move until I went back for another shower tonight. I could almost hear him grumbling about being awoken so rudely and so early in the evening as he nimbly hoisted himself to higher ground. Considering his chosen spot of exile from the peril of my indoor rainstorm - inside the track of the sliding door - I could have easily squashed him (or her, I suppose) with hardly a second thought. However, the spider did have the good sense to hide away from the spray, rather than be washed down the drain with assorted bodily detritus, and didn't seem any more intent on bothering me than I was on bothering it. I kept a watchful eye on it when not sputtering through shampoo, yet didn't feel particularly threatened - despite the impressive size of his fangs, which must have been the envy of the spider community. Instead, I felt an odd sense of karma: though it would probably just die unmolested by human intervention, I couldn't help but entertain the slim possibility that, after surviving its watery encounters today, it might trap a mosquito carrying West Nile bound for my arteries. On the other hand, I might have failed to see its mean streak, and may wake up tomorrow with a massive welt on my arm, or with a mere stump or something. In any case, I'm sure it feels some sense of gratitude for mercy rather than malice on my part, or whatever passes for gratitude in spiders.

The other day, I was on my way through Smith when the open door to Norman James theater caught my attention. I had recalled a sign listing the afternoon's activities for registering freshmen and parents of said future revenue, and one item on the list was "Student Movies." Having forgotten the video Rebekah had made for one of her Anthro classes (apologies if I got that wrong), I was thoroughly surprised to see a thirty-foot Andrew going through our massive refrigerator. The surprise was not so much at his increase in stature, but at the coincidence of seeing him there... Unfortunately the film was already to the credits, but it was still amusing to see him poke around the fridge, identifying various drinks, cheeses, leftovers, and other random denizens of our food supply.

Now playing:
Beach Boys, Wouldn't It Be Nice
(which reminds me, 50 First Dates was so damn cute...)