I am at odds with the universe today. I'm reaping what I sowed, paying the price for a misdeed. I'll tell you what I did, but first, this brief musical interlude:

When I finally dragged my slacker ass out of bed this morning--my slackerness having nothing to do with the Keelhauler's return last night and our ensuing joyful bar-and-restaurant-hopping spree--I had the song "Summerbaby" in my head. Perhaps you do not know this song, in which case you should seek high and low til you find it. It's probably best known from its appearance in The Adventures of Pete and Pete. It appeared in my mental jukebox because I'd been watching the show before I fell asleep, so I'm not going to count it on my list of morning songs.

It is a great song, though, and now it's stuck in my head. It fits nicely into the cheerful-if-sinister vibe of the last few weeks, with its chorus of If you seen all I done/When I'm alone I do things nobody knows. It's could be the theme song of basement-dwelling animal experimenter stalkers whose sense of superiority is driven by their mistaken belief that their snide and judgmental blog is witty, rather than proof of a deep-seated personality disorder. Sorry, where was I? Right. "When I'm alone, I do things nobody knows."

On that note, I have a confession to make. I stole something. Three things, actually. Three items. And they're not even things I want. I didn't mean to steal them. Here's what happened: In a mission to cheer myself up in the shallowest way imaginable, I went shopping. This town doesn't have a large offering of swanky boutiques, at least none that are open after 6:00, so I went to the mall. The mall is hideous and filled with miscreants, featuring dozens of stores that look like the merchandise fell out of the clown car of a traveling circus train. And yet: it is there that I went. I bought a pair of shoes at Macy's, yee-haw, black satin espadrilles--very practical for life on a boat. Then, I was sucked into the glittering vortex that is Old Navy. I couldn't help myself--I was mesmerized by a pair of cargo pants decorated with chartreuse bugle beads sewn in the shape of a songbird.

See, that's not even true: I went there specifically to return three items of clothing I bought on my previous ennui-driven shopping jaunt. Three little items of clothing. A pair of pants, and two "perfect fit" t-shirts that were clearly mislabeled. I walked into the store with my three items in the cheerful, Christmas-themed shopping bag I'd been given at the Old Navy where I'd bought them. Instead of just returning the three items and leaving, I selected four additional items, including a red satin chemise that makes me look insane. I think I was blinded by the red satin and the hawk-like hovering of the three cashiers who handled my transaction, or what happened next would never have taken place. The three cashiers were loudly aghast that I'd managed to acquire a CHRISTMAS BAG from another store--they wanted to call someone named "Gary" and "rat out" the other store, so appalled were they. "Those aren't supposed to be given out until Thanksgiving!" they fumed, and in all the confusion, I returned my three items, paid for the four new items (eleven dollars), and walked out with a total of seven items.

I didn't notice that part until I got home, actually, or I would have given the three items back. I was RETURNING them--I had no intention of keeping them. And yet, three days later, I still have them.

So... when I got home the next night, Mike the Security Guy greeted me in the parking lot on his rounds, and offhandedly asked me if the Keelhauler and I have bikes. Why, yes, I answered. Well, said Mike, a bunch of them were stolen, but the thieves had left a couple just lying on the ground--did I want to take a look? I peered into the Bike Corral, and there was my bike, my great indigo Bridgestone CB-2. "That's my bike!" I yelled through the fence, and Mike said I could leave it in there until I got a new cable. (The Keelhauler's bike was untouched.) I feel that having my bike half-stolen is karmic payback for inadvertently stealing the Three Items. I just know it.

In addition, last night I looked for my yellow sapphire earrings, my only truly nice earrings suitable for every occasion--and one of them was missing. I'm so sad! I bought those earrings in Oregon, which is incidental except for the fact that I won't be back at that little jewelry store any time soon, but I love them--they are a beautiful pair of matched yellow sapphires--and I hope the other one turns up. Although I didn't have them created from the carbon of my loved ones, they're like my friends, my little, yellow, inanimate, silent friends that I stick into holes in my ears for decoration.

Come back, little earring, come back! I'll take back the Three Items--I didn't want them anyway! I'm sorry!

Star of the day. . .The inexplicably sinister Mark Mulcahy