So, it was my birthday yesterday, and the Schmozemonster proved she knows how to throw a party. Though no iMac was to be had by reason of rejection by the Walker Household Budget Committee, we are one step closer to computing euphoria due to the lovely office chair that Charlie & Irene got for me. Sarah herself purchased a fancy new garbage can in light of the festivities. You may be asking why in the world my wife would get us, er, me a garbage can? Well, the fact is, we hate our garbage can.

You also may be wondering why we would be so empassioned about a 10 gallon rubbermaid container. That’s because you’ve never had to live with our garbage can–to watch as the bag collapses in on itself after the can is about half full, to use the tilt-in lid as it amasses vile sticky goo after three days of use which must be washed off by hand, to knock that self-same lid into the garbage by accident such that it amasses even more vile sticky goo in one fell swoop. To be sure, this new can is a blessing.

Schmozer, being cunning like she is, hid a new pair of leather gloves in the garbage can box–gloves that match my aforementioned leather jacket. What’s more, she made a rockin’ chocolate cake of which I have devoured three slices in the last 24 hours.

Jaime, Sal and Brandon came over, too, and we had a great time drinking coffee and chilling.

I love my wife.

Entries are likely to be sparse (cough, shocker, cough) for the next few days as I ramp up for my Prob & Stat exam, Foreign Policy paper, and Guided Design proposal…

Sarah found a new cage for Code Red, whose emotional distance had prompted us to believe that he may have an eating disorder. I got home yesterday to discover that Sarah had, eight hours previously, faced the two cages towards each other with the doors open so Codey could hop right in. That is, if Codey did anything other than eat millet and shriek when Sarah and I are within 4 feet of him (Bernie, on the other hand, has expressed her overt desire for my attention by alighting herself on my laptop monitor as I write this). I once asked Sarah what she thought would happen if we took Codey out of his cage and put him on, say, the coffeetable. We decided that he’d probably spontaneously combust: feathers everywhere.