That's the latest gossip on the state of the family homestead in Wisconsin. The house is beyond repair, and the owner of the bikeshop next door is going to buy the lot for customer parking.
Though my memories of my childhood in that house are not altogether warm and fuzzy (hence purgatory in lieu of paradise above), that qualifies as an "Ouch!"
Who wants their family home to be a parking lot, I ask you?
On other fronts, we're home from the cottage. It's raining like mad out there, and since I still have HTML classwork to do and would rather do it via a DSL line than dial-up (wouldn't you?), we're back.
Saw a surprisingly good play last night at the Miniature Theatre of Chester, "See Rock City." Why surprising? Being in the Berkshires, one is inundated with cultural possibilities; unfortunately, they often disappoint. Either the play's written by someone with ADD, the acting is fraught, the work on display is appealing only to masochists or depressives, the audience is wearing enough perfume/cologne to cause asthma in a corpse, or the entire premise is corrupt (am still subject to the shudders when I think of a "comedy revue" we saw last year). Happily, "See Rock City" was well written, acted, and produced. And the audience was fragranced, but not unbearably so.
Plus, we found a little restaurant around the corner that looked promising.
A successful weekend, that it was--except that I had a nightmare last night that I was late for work at the superintendent's office.
The only good part about the nightmare was that I was working with Queen Latifah, who was very cool about it all.
When isn't she?
Okay, must go face the HTML music now.
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