All-nighter, middle-aged version

So it's not quite 1:00 a.m., and I'm still up. How is this possible?

I am doing temp work, and I am trying to meet deadlines.

And I am doing housework, and I am trying to keep up my end of the finances.

I am getting punchy, and I should be in bed, instead of writing in my blog.

But I felt the need to note this occasion. Haven't done this in a long time, and I'm glad.

Also found out for certain today that my family home is no more. It's a sand lot right now, according to the owner of the bike shop next door, John. Nice guy, John. He's my future source for hometown news, I've decided.

Not that there's much of that going around.

And September 11 passed by quietly yesterday. I still don't quite accept that it happened, even though I've been to the former site of the Twin Towers three times since. Seeing isn't necessarily believing.

Ditto what's happening in New Orleans and elsewhere. Can't fathom it.

And my brother is working day and night, for he decided to go work for FEMA a while ago. No, he's not a political appointee.

He actually knows what he's doing. (Please don't tell him I said that.)

Which means right now, he's not home much, poor guy. Poor sister-in-law. Poor dog.

And I must say, I hope that Andre Agassi doesn't let his recent loss force his retirement. I know I'm gay and all, but I find that man endearing. I love his walk, and the fact that he can be both boyish and bald.

What's not to like?