It's A Code Breaker For One.

I'm sitting in my office and there seems to be someone with a jack-hammer downstairs. It really is scaring the living daylights out of me. It sounds a lot like explosions. I have a mind to go down there and throw something at them since they are not suppose to be doing that while people are working, but I have something pounding on my nano - someone called Partial Arts - and I'm digging it quite immensely. And the occasional shaking of the floor, although unsettling to be sure, doesn't really distract from the enjoyment.

There really seems to be a lot for me to do before I leave for my extended winter vacation on Friday. I seem to be one of those people that just waits until the last minute in hopes that everything will just take care of itself. You'd be amazed at how often it actually works, but this time I may actually have to run an errand or two, clean out my refrigerator, go to the post-office, make an insane list of impractical things to pack, go to the farmers market, and I'm sure there are many other things lurking about that I've managed somehow to completely expel from my mind.


The Yankees have asked the perpetually injured and expensive Carl Pavano to accept a minor league contract. I seriously forgot that this guy even existed. I think maybe he pitched twice last year, and even that is just a guess. The amount of money the Yankees have paid for Pavano must at least equal the blood money I give to Lush sales associates to keep them from going psycho over conditioner. And Derek is going to tear himself away from David Wright long enough to be inducted into the Kalamazoo High School Athletic Hall of Fame this Friday. One would have thought that they had already gotten around to doing this, but apparently this is his first year of eligibility. And it's nice to see somebody else is a stickler for rules.