I give up. I can't care about the World Cup anymore. I cared, and I got burned . . . and I also got a little fortune-cookie style advice from the local convenience store sage: "welll, you see, somebody has to win and somebody has to lose. It always works this way, no?"

Fortunately the Italy-v-France wound is treatable, and my soothing salve of choice is Bikram, Bikram the yoga. I love it. I wish every month was $30 beginner discount month. Sigh.

In other news, yesterday was the 4th and I forgot to play last year's Lee Greenwood itunes purchase, sadly applicable (by my highbrow standards, anyway) only once yearly.

My dear roommate, currently caught up in something or another at an orphanage in Honduras, comes back to northern soil next week. Hooray. I don't feel like a needy person, but I really like having someone with whom to share my domestic situation. Fortunatley, I haven't had to be completley self-sufficient in roomie's absence; a steady stream of house/couch-guests (Dave, Sarah and my friend Kim) has kept the absence tolerable.

In summary and in conclusion, I just paired and folded all of my socks for the first time in months, and it felt really great.