in my cd player... Sarge Distant   on the page... Ayn Rand Atlas Shrugged   into... late afternoon baths; March 1995; these incredibly sweet smelling bell-like flowers that hang from a tree on the corner of Hall Place and W Place; kites   a list... I told Todd that I'm compiling a list of things to discuss with his mother at his wedding. From incessant talking to sneaking up on birds with salt shakers to drawing on the living room wall. Today he told me a childhood story about being on the Mall near the Washington Monument in the middle of a downpour of rain when suddenly his mother's skirt, weighted from the water, dropped down to her ankles. The sheer embarrassment of a fifth-grade Todd with his half-naked Mother is a must-discuss topic.   sheer delight... What could be better than Elizabeth Elmore in knee high black boots with a set list of all new songs? The low point will be taking steel wool to my bar scar in order to appear freshly scrubbed and professional for a client meeting tomorrow morning.   flood-free... Todd immediately alerted me to the fact that today was definitely a day in which my old Boston apartment flooded: "There's no way that blackflow preventer thing is gonna cut it today... don't know who lives there now, but somebody's hats are going to need dry-cleaning. Today would be a great day to call Chris and ask him if he ever regrets allowing relatives to pour cement down that storm drain."