when the cat's away, the mouse will watch chick flicks.

So. John is in New Orleans, knocking/ripping out muddy mildewed rotten sheetrock and carpet from houses ransacked by Katrina. It's hot and steamy humid. There was a shrimping boat in the middle of the road.

Meanwhile, I've just watched my Meg Ryan movie of the night. Tonight's choice: When Harry Met Sally (Preceded by: Monday, Hanging Up; Tuesday, You've Got Mail; yesterday, I.Q. Followed by: Friday, my favorite, Sleepless in Seattle). Admittedly, Meg Ryan is a guilty pleasure, of sorts. What better time for guilty pleasures than when you're sitting (literally sitting) at home alone while your husband is out doing manual labor in the hot sun in, like, 80% humidity to help those in need? There is no better time! I've also watched 3 Diane Keaton movies, including Annie Hall, which I'd never seen before.

On the plus side, while John's gone, I get to drive the car we park in the garage. And, when not at work...I've been in pajamas all week. There's really no need to be dressed to the nines for Meg Ryan.

In the car: the Flaming Lips on repeat on the CD player I gave John for his birthday a few years ago. I thought today, "If I were thin, I'd be a hipster like Anna." I don't even use the word "hipster."