• Waking up at eleven and staying in bed till two, a first for the summer.
  • Accidentally spelling “font” as “phont” more than once.
  • The impromptu Jackson 5 dance party with Mom.
  • The new Bernard Purdie record, so good and inspiring because it’s better than what one might expect from ‘60s veterans’ new records (thanks Billy).
  • The infant’s play gym strapped to the roof of a Forester.
  • The bank teller who acted like my request for change was some bizarre, new form of performance art.
  • The purpose-built, yellow Kodak photo-processing PCs at Target.
  • Recycling printer ink that had been sitting around, waiting, for years.
  • Getting a professional massage for the first time since past festival seasons’ fancy backstages.
    • The masseuse’s cigarette tar sniffles.
    • My Adam’s apple pressing so hard into the face hole I thought I might choke.
    • Smelling like a delicious, chemical version of cucumbers for twelve hours afterward.
  • Hoping Fig Newtons stay afloat in this new, fig-unfriendly world.