A woman and her very young child are sitting in the comfy chair next to my comfy chair. In a move that seems profoundly out of character, the coffee shop is playing a classic rock radio station. Everything seems fine until “Sister Golden Hair” begins playing. The woman begins bouncing her toddler on her lap and humming along. She’s not humming the melody, exactly. I guess she’s humming the chords that the rhythm guitar is playing, but she’s sustaining the notes. I have listened to this woman’s piercing voice hold notes for exceptionally long periods of time. And to make matters worse, it’s fucking “Sister Golden Hair.”

Okay, they got their food, and they’re gone now. And the coffee shop, Plan B, turned off KQRS and are now playing the underground metal that I’ve come to expect. Someone must have corrected the spacetime disruption.

Note: From where I’m sitting, I get a faceful of the customers’ butts while they’re in line. The enjoyability of this experience varies.

Anyway, Mike Rylander and I embark for North Dakota in about nineteen hours, riding Westward in our rented, dark blue Kia Spectra. Even though we’ll be returning to Minneapolis for one night in between, I’ve packed for both the week in North Dakota and the week in Alaska.

Packing for these trips is always a pain, because, in an effort not to overpack, I agonize forever over whether or not to bring certain items. Should I bring my Pentax camera? If so, should I bring the whole camera bag with all of my lenses, or should I just toss the camera itself in my backpack? Should I bring my video camera? Do we have room? Would I even use it? Grrr.

I’m spending my last full day in town doing…not a lot. I got breakfast with Kat at Uptown Diner. I got a haircut. I did laundry. I packed. Maybe I’ll see a movie tonight. I’ll probably end up repacking one or two more times.

If you’ve been following my roommate Mike Fotis’ blog, you’re probably familiar with the washing machine saga…

Several weeks ago, I was doing laundry in the basement. The machine stopped during the spin cycle, and moments later, I noticed a burning smell. I opened the lid, and a wisp of smoke rose up from the machine. I unplugged it and made sure it wasn’t going to burn the house down. (It still hasn’t.) I then told Mike all about how I facilitated the destruction of a major appliance in his house.

Mike ordered a new washer from Sears!

It came today!

Guess what can’t fit down the basement stairs!

It was the narrowest washer Sears had, so we’re facing the prospect of being a washerless household. We tried to use the old machine again, just in case it worked. If by “worked,” you mean “filled the basement with smoke,” then it worked beautifully, exceeding all expectations.

I have added my name to a list of people who have challenged themselves to write a screenplay by October 31st. As far as I know, there are no parameters set down, so I could write a one-page screenplay that takes place in complete darkness and has no dialogue, and I would’ve succeeded. Maybe I’ll actually write something. Time will tell. Maybe it’ll be about a woman and her daughter humming along with “Sister Golden Hair” in an uptown hipster coffee shop. Perhaps it will be an animated featurette starring the single best thing on Earth, Jill Bernard’s hippo…

I doubt I could get the rights, though.

Anyway. Stay tuned.