Ah, this is the life.

Kelly is away for work. My roommates are off camping. My home has been empty this weekend. The noises of the house surprise me still, and as I am quasi-paranoid (meaning I am actually quite paranoid but I am convinced it is only for fun) the creaking of the floorboards and the soft muttering of the door jambs give me pause, much akin to the pause headlights give to deer. Quasi-paranoid, I am, but that doesn't mean they're not out to get me.

All alone, there is much to do but no pressure to actually do it. I could finish reading Invisible Man by Ralph Ellison, or listen to The National in concert on my iPod. Their are weights in the garage that I could lift up and down.

I could go out and socialize, but I did that on Thursday. Kelly and I went over to Donovan and Lauren's to watch the Vice Presidential debate. There was quite a crowd. Lauren made delicious snacks for all and I drank Stella Artois arrogantly and lorded over those drinking Bud Light as I imagine a new step-brothers is supposed to do when said step-brother is clearly better than the other pale, acrid, and watery step-brother.

After that debate, I found myself in another heated exchange, this time concerning hydrogen. I've argued drunkenly enough that I now retain a nagging feeling that I'm completely wrong about most things, but I stood firm, and still do, in insisting that hydrogen is quite abundant on this planet and not terribly expensive to get at.

I'm still quite riled up after that hydrogen business. A quiet weekend at home is just the solution.

Mostly I've been wandering around the house naked. Then that got boring and I made a toga out of my old Star Wars sheet, the one my Godmother gave me when I was little because I loved Star Wars. Miguel says we watched the Star Wars movies over and over when we were little, but I don't remember that.

The sheet isn't big enough to be a toga; It is tied around my waist and then the leftover bit is thrown over my shoulder like a sash. I call it a faux-ga.

Saturday night!