smoke in the laundry

(That title is much, much funnier if you say it in your head to the tune of "Smoke on the Water" -- I apologize, but it made me laugh.)

Short, as the erranding and clean-clothesing and hospital time were long and now it is time to lay me down to sleep. Christopher is desperately watching the bicycle race (which was pretty freaking interesting today, I have to say). Tyler Hamilton is still riding with the broken collarbone and his masseuse says he may stay in the race because the pain will lessen in two or three days. Ohhhkay. A French guy won the yellow jersey today -- not to mention a French guy who Lance Armstrong has been feuding with the team of -- and it was a really big deal because that hasn't happened in forever. And the team the guy belonged to was a scandal anyway, because a lot of people felt like they were only allowed in the race because they were French. Anyway, you really should be reading the completely charming and girly reports (including who the reporter is crushing on at any particular stage) at Daily Peloton called the Jambon report. If you can't find it look around on the Tour's main page off that one. It's worth it. So snarky and witty. I love it.

Really, it's me. He's downstairs watching the race. I swear.

Is this kid going to get a dozen trillion job offers or what? Seriously, having your dissertation project classified is not the worst thing that can happen to you. They could have just killed him already.

Um, that's it. The Bryson is lovely and full of the kinds of fascinating and funny details you want it to be.

Now, good night, since I still have to finish this damn novel by Saturday.