Mongo did not come out from under the guest-room bed all night last night. I was searching the house for him this morning, convinced that he'd had a heart attack or something from all the explosions going on outside. He's fine, just a wimp. I know the feeling.

Right now I'm waiting for my friend Pamela, who is about to move to New Zealand -- New Zealand! -- to drop some stuff off with me. Our friend Tripp, who works for the Heartland AIDS Ride, has taken her bookcases and has therefore taken on the responsibility for selling the books she doesn't want. He's on the Ride now, so we're storing the books in my house 'til he gets back. Plus, she'll be dropping off stuff that The Chicago Choral Artists will be using for our garage sale. What fun.