Whether it was because I stayed up late, or because I had three caffeinated drinks, or because I had a late-night puff, whatever the case: I could not get to sleep after the game Monday. And when I "woke" on Tuesday, I knew it was going to be a rough day.

My head was in a fog.

My mind was stuck in first gear.

I had a brain cloud.

I drove to work in a daze. I invoiced in a daze. I wrote quotes in a daze. I entered orders in a daze. I made the Costco trip in a daze. For lunch, I had a Costco wienie. I debated whether or not to drink some caffeine — caffeine had helped get me into this mess! — and in the end decided that what was needed was the hair of the dog that bit me.

It didn't help.

In the afternoon, I spent huge amounts of time on the phone, waiting on hold with Dell Computer (perhaps more on that tomorrow), all in a daze. I drove home in a daze.

When I got home, I tried to take a nap, but I was thwarted by animals. Toto walked across me, to and fro, on the bed. She sat next to me and purred. She stuck her wet nose in my ear. Outside, one of the squirrels — Walnut — threw nuts from the tree, presumably at a cat. Walnut was perched above a metal awning, which, from time-to-time, his missiles hit with a loud bang. Next door, a dog barked incessantly.

When Kris came home, I still wanted to nap, but she suggested we watch a couple of episodes of Alias (we're currently watching season three — last season — from Netflix). It was all I could do to stay awake. I wanted to watch Jennifer Garner, but my eyelids felt like those you see in old cartoons: leaden weights which needed to be propped open by Rude Goldberg style contraptions.

Then, at dusk, we walked down to see Rhonda and Mike's house.

(We had a couple of false starts for the quarter-mile walk, the last of which was most notable. As we were leaving, Simon decided to join us. He followed us to the edge of the lawn. "Go back," Kris told him. He followed us into the street. "Go back," Kris told him. He followed us down the road, to the neighbor's driveway. "Go back," Kris told him, and then she noticed there was a car coming. Simon stood, tail in the air, happy to be taking a walk with us. Kris sighed, picked him up, and carried him back into the house.)

Rhonda is one of Kris' co-workers, and the woman responsible for introducing us to our house. Her husband, Mike, provided help and advice when we rewired the electrical outlets downstairs. We like them both, but despite our proximity, we haven't had a chance to get together.

Rhonda, a Master Gardener, gave Kris a tour of her flowers and vegetables. Mike and I tagged along. Over the course of the evening, I gleaned much good advice regarding raspberries and grapes and fruit trees. Rhonda recommended I halt my "kill the dandelion garden next to the road" project (which I've undertaken with the help of two large tarps and some hunks of sod) as it's not likely to do anything besides produce even more weeds. (That spot next to the road is destined to be an herb garden, but not until next year or the year after.)

Over angel food cake and brandied berries, we talked more about gardening, about home improvement. (Rhonda and Mike live in a beautiful craftsman-style home, and have recently purchased a rental.) We talked about books and politics. We talked about life.

When we finally left, after nearly three hours of chatting, we carried a basket filled with fresh grapes. The air was cool. It was raining lightly. As we strained up-the-hill, Kris and I marveled at the strange way the streetlights reflected off the wet asphalt. The ground seemed to rush toward us with every step, like the light-speed effect in the Star Wars films.

While we got ready for bed, I realized: I wasn't groggy anymore.

On this day at foldedspace.org

2005 — Crash   In which Hurricane Katrina and the film Crash inspire me to meditate on race in the United States.

2002 — American Bacon 2, FC Saints 0   This morning was beautiful for soccer: cool, overcast, dew on the ground. Going into the game, I felt that my litany of injuries was improving: hand 95%, right quad 95%, shoulder 80%, left quad 65%. The left quad hurt.