It's a gorgeous morning. The sky is wispy and grey. The air is warm. A light mist floats on the air, clinging to clothes and to windows. It reminds me of the Oregon coast. I love misty mornings; we don't get many of them during the summer.

The floors are being refinished at the new house, so Kris and I spent last night in Canby. Kris focused on macro-level cleaning. (Micro-level cleaning will come later, once we're completely moved out.) She packed more canned food; cleaned the gummy, furry spot where the fridge once stood; and generally organized for another van trip.

I spent most of my time working in the yard, using my new mower for the first time.

While we lived in Canby, over ninety percent of my mowing was done with a small non-powered reel mower. I used a reel mower for several reasons:

• They are non-polluting.
• They are quiet.
• They provide exercise.
• They're inexpensive.
• They provide a better cut.

While a reel mower is fine for a small lot like the one in Canby, it's impractical to use one on the large lawn at the new house. (It'd take me about three hours to mow the lawn!)

As I've mentioned before, Jeff is, well, obsessed with lawn mowers and tractors. He spends a not insignificant amount of time reading a particular lawn and garden forum. Usually I mock him for this, but I'll admit that this once, I'm grateful for his fetish.

Over the past few weeks, he's been bringing me printouts of lawn mowers he recommends. Most of these have been lawn tractors. For a time — before Kris and I realized we were going to spend a small fortune repairing the walls — we considered a lawn tractor. Now, however, the thought has passed. Instead, I opted for the Toro Super Recycler mulching mower. I considered a self-propelled model, but opted against it when I realized it cost $100 more. (Besides, I need the exercise.)

Last night, I used my new mower for the first time. It's awesome. It has twice the horse-power of the other power mower I've been using this spring. And it shreds the grass into tiny, tiny pieces. No bagging. No side discharge. Just a fine mulch.

I can't believe this, but I'm excited to mow the lawn at the new house later tonight.

When Kris and I had finished our chores, we fixed some dinner (cans of soup) and then flopped on the floor to watch some Netflix. (All of our furniture has already been moved, so the floor serves as our chair, our table, our couch. And our bed.)

We've been watching the second season of Larry David's Curb Your Enthusiasm.

Larry David was the co-created Seinfeld. He was also the model for the character George. If you can imagine a skinnier, more sedate George, that's Larry David. (One ongoing gag in Curb Your Enthusiasm has the stars of Seinfeld bashing the character George — "Come on, he was pathetic!" — as if they're unaware he was based on Larry David.)

I loved Seinfeld. There were some episodes that fell flat (Elaine and her "little kicks"), but many of them left me in stitches. Everyone loves the classic episode The Contest, but my personal favorite is The Marine Biologist, particularly the last scene. (George: "The sea was angry, my friends!" and, later, Kramer: "Is that a Titleist?")

I'm pleased to report that Curb Your Enthusiasm often has crazy Seinfeldian plots, in which all sorts of seemingly unrelated little goofy things tie together in the end for big goofy things. (As Julia Louis-Dreyfuss describes the show: "It's like Seinfeld, except you can say 'fuck'.")

My favorite episode so far is much too convoluted to explain, but it involves:

• a woman who won't let George — er, Larry — bring water into a theater
• a decapitated doll
• a bathroom without a lock on the door
• an angry, swearing ex-wife

There's also an episode Kris likes (probably because it has a stronger plot than most of the others) that's very similar to the Seinfeld episode in which George decides to do the opposite of everything he would normally do. In the Curb Your Enthusiasm episode, Larry's having a terrible string of luck. Suddenly, and for no reason, his luck improves. Everything he touches is golden. He can do no wrong. It's pretty funny.

Kris says the show is depressing. Larry David, as he plays himself in the show, is pathetic. He does stupid things all the time. (Kris, talking to me after one episode: "In many ways, he's a lot like you.") It's hard to sympathize with him because he's such a flake, such a loser.

In fact, that's probably the key difference between Curb Your Enthusiasm and Seinfeld: the cast. Seinfeld's ensemble worked well together, and mostly the characters were likeable. If one were to transpose the Curb Your Enthusiasm scripts into Seinfeld shows, they'd be hilarious. But as Curb Your Enthusiasm episodes, they're mostly just mildly funny.

On this day at foldedspace.org

2005 — The Corruption of Our Youth   We spent time with Jeremy and Jennifer last night for the first time in a month. I seized the opportunity to corrupt their children.

2003 — Contentment   In which I have my best weekend since knee surgery: I read Harry Potter, I go to a wedding, I carouse with friends, I clean the house, and I read Edward Abbey. Amen.

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