Schroedinger's Monkey

Sounds vaguely naughty, doesn't it?

I finished off the last of the soon-to-expire egg-beater stuff in a batch of cookies last night. I dimly recall promising one of my neighbors cookies before she jaunts off to college to get all learned and stuff.

I heard a commotion across the hall, so I handed off cookies.

I guess the neighbors are getting a roommate while the daughter is off in school?

I should've made more cookies.

Tomorrow's gonna be a tough day. If all goes poorly, I'll have an afternoon meeting then a looooooooong few hours of class in prep for the test. I'm not even sure when I'll be fitting dinner into the mix.

Good times.

I'm reminded of that Gaiman line from "NeverWhere" in which Richard Mayhew reflects on how events are cowards and never come at a person one-on-one but rather like to hit in gangs.

On the topic of gangs, I see that there's some random crazy f*cker shooting people in the wee hours of the morning. This time it's near the relatively-safe community of Albany.

Another excuse to avoid bicycling in the morning. If Albany is having problems, early-morning Berkeley/Oakland is just gonna suck.

Maybe I should try to buy a bulletproof backpack again?

What the f*ck kind of world do we live in where there's a market for bulletproof backpacks? Why do we live in a world where anyone would even need a bulletproof backpack?

I'm sure the NRA has an answer.