In case anyone hasn't read it on the Vagrant Cafe board or wherever else yet, my computer was stolen this past weekend. I'm sick of repeating the details (and I'm sure most of you have seen the thread on the board, anyway), at least what's gone on the past few days, so for right now I'll leave it at that. I did go to the police station last night to add to the report and it hadn't been filed yet. That's understandable -- anyone who has to patrol the area of town we recently lived in has a lot going on and paperwork probably isn't a priority. They just did a prostitution-related sting and hauled in 13. On the other hand, I really would like to work with my insurance company and get a new computer ASAP. I'm sure we're in for a nice long drawn-out situation here. If only I could throw my Christianity aside for half an hour and just beat my former roommate into confessing and getting it back for me (though for legal purposes, I'm not necessarily accusing him here, understand?) along with the money he owes Ben and myself. I've been looking forward to finally having some time to write this semester I'm taking off, and the new office in the apartment is perfect...so it only figures something like this happens to knock everything off. After this is all over I'll probably use some of that eventual writing time to describe exactly what sort of person that former roommate is (and it's not Ben or Dean, just to avoid confusion).

Since Stacey works out at a school way out west and has a class (two days a week) here on campus that gets over half an hour after I get off work, we're just carpooling on Tuesdays and Thursdays. I do enjoy having the extra nearly an hour before work to just sort of ease into things and do various Internet-related things I can't do anywhere else for the time being. On the other hand, I can't really truthfully put a happy face on waking up before 6am.

Now that I think about it, today would have been much better spent locking myself alone in a room and listening to various Gram Parsons projects. When variety would become a factor, I'd summon Son House, Skip James, Blind Willie McTell, Charley Patton, Mississippi John Hurt and a few others to the rescue.

Stay tuned for an incoherent ramble that pits my feminist ideals versus my suppressed warped misogyny.