At one point today I had a catchy title in mind that would segue into a (hopefully) interesting paragraph.

It must have the been all the little boys AND their parents who converged on PJ's this afternoon to celebrate winning a tournament--and from what I heard it might have been a state title. Even though they eventually ended up in the back room (which had been reserved for them) the happy sounds tended to go beyond the room.

Oh well, I wasn't doing real geek reading, although I was reading semi-geek stuff. Baghdad Diaries - A Woman's Chronicle of War and Exile is by artist Nuha al-Radi and tells of the first war (1991) against Iraq, and how the people adapted to limited, if any, electricity, not to mention other things like new tires for cars, medicines, etc. etc. and so forth. I'm up to 1995 now. It ends with a 2003 postscript.

She writes about daily life and the adaptations people made, but she also includes the "ordinary," such as the vigorous sex life of her dog and his many offspring. And there are political comments--not just about the Iraqi leadership and corruption, but (needless to say) the United States. A big concern is whether all the chemicals thrown at them (Iraqis) in the saturation bombing have increased the cancer risks, not to mention risks of ordinary diseases.

I have decided that if the cell phone company and Microsoft don't update my phone and computer clocks this weekend, I shall just wait three weeks till it gets done automatically. I already keep my car clock on daylight time--it is just too much hassle to a) find the car instruction manual, b) find the part that tells how to set the clocks, and c) actually reset the clocks. When I get in the car I am normally ready to go somewhere, not spend time messing around with clocks. So, I am used to mentally adjusting time.

I am not looking forward to another two to four weeks of having the rising sun in my left eyeball as I drive to work. Last week it finally got above the bottom edge of the visor. Now I get to start all over again.

I did accomplish a little bit today--I did some de-junking in the den. There is a plastic crate that was filled with magazines, books, etc. The old tool catalogs (dating back to the 20th century) got tossed. Other stuff got tossed. And when Fabian went to walk across it on his route from the floor to my lap, he discovered it felt waaaay different and stopped to decide if he could still use it as a route. After a bit of consideration he continued from there to the chair, and then to the footstool and finally to the couch and my lap. Why doesn't he just jump (or climb) onto the couch? He might be too fat, but in any event it's against the First Law of Catdom to ever go directly from Point A to Point B.

Happy Ridiculously Early DST Eve.