I had a stressful night of attending to pre-trip matters, greatly complicated by the fact that the pump apparently clicked off after a few gallons when I bought gas last week without me realizing it, which caused me to run out while driving Old Red home last night. Sometimes the absence of gauges is sorely felt. But order is restored and I'm about to head up to Phoenix for my indirect -- through Minneapolis -- but cheap flight to Louisville for this year's iteration of the 20th Century Literature conference. And I'm feeling more optimistic, because my complaint about the breezeway barista who played Madonna's hits all day for weeks has resulted, not in a reduction of volume, but a switch to The Cure. Go me! If there's anything I can listen to 24-7, it's The Cure.

I also had a great conversation about punk and class with my partner this morning. It's pretty special when your best interlocutor happens to live with you. To be honest, I can't even complain about last night, because despite the long trek down to campus and back, I got to have hours of quality time with Skylar, capped by a leisurely look at Piero Ventura's Book of Cities, culminating in a highly focused study of the two-page spread showing a canal-and-street scene in Amsterdam. And wait till you see how darling she looked in her cowgirl outfit this morning. If nothing else, Rodeo Days in Tucson make for great parental photo ops. Well, off to Sky Harbor. . .

Tags: everyday, family
Mode: brightening
Muse: the hits of Robert Smith & Co.