Fred, who is a wonderful man, not only returned my sneakers for me, but picked out the female version of the sneakers he bought for himself, and exchanged the no-good very-bad sneakers I bought the other day. Hands off, ladies. He’s taken. I finished the new Stephen King book last night. It’s an excellent book and I highly recommend it. The first third or so is sort of a memoir, and it was pretty neat to see last names I recognized, and to realize that he was talking about the parents or grandparents of kids I went to school with. I’m kind of immersed in Stephen King these days, because when I walk in the morning I listen to Bag of Bones on cd, and I have the second and third chapters of The Plant waiting for me to read them. (And I see that chapter 4 is out, so pardon me for a moment while I go download it…) The only downside to all this Stephen King-ism is that the entire time I was reading On Writing, I could hear his voice in the back of my head as if he were reading it to me, and it was a tad disconcerting. Have I ever mentioned that I love me some Stephen King? The very first adult novel I read was Carrie, and it just blew me away that he wrote the way people really talked. I must have been about the spud’s age when I read Carrie, and it was actually a copy that belonged to my brother Tracy. My mother had read the paperback when Tracy was done, and inside the front cover, she’d written "I don’t approve of this. Do you?" and signed her name. I’m not sure who the note was intended for, but the fact that she didn’t approve made me only want to read it all the more. Fred and I talked about all the Stephen King books there are, and Fred began listing the ones he didn’t like – Insomnia, Rose Madder, Cujo – and I repeated several times "I like ALL his books!" I mean, don’t get me wrong, I know some of them are better than others, but all in all if I were stranded on a desert island, I’d want all his books with me. Of course, if I had all those books with me, I could probably build a kickin’ yacht and be out of there in no time. I spent this morning being all industrious and not only doing laundry, but cleaning out the garage-cum-pigsty, and now it’s hardly even recognizable as the same garage. I put my foot down and informed Fred that there’s hardly room for all the STUFF in the garage and both our Jeeps too, so I was going to start parking in the driveway, he could park in my spot (closest to the door, don’tchaknow), and we’d use the empty half of the garage for storage. So once I was done exercising, I backed my Jeep out of the garage and began cleaning. I managed to fill the back of my Jeep up with boxes and other trash to throw away, and I filled the garbage can up with the little things we never use anymore. I swept two tons of dust and crap out into the driveway and then picked it all up and tossed it in the garbage can. Mark my words, it’ll be back to looking crappy in three days flat. I only ran across one living spider, and it came nowhere near my body or hair, for which I am grateful. The spud turns 12 tomorrow.