everybody hates a tourist

Busy morning; no time.

I re-watched the Sci-Fi channel’s Dune miniseries this past week, having forgotten how good it all is. The whole miniseries has a very theatrical feel to it: lighting changes in mid-scene, lush backdrops instead of real environments, very standard camera shots. Baron Harkonnen even ends every scene he’s in with a Shakespearean couplet. In fact, I’d be hard pressed to say what the upcoming Peter Berg adaptation will bring to the table, except a better budget and, probably, worse actors.

I love the new apartment dearly, for everyone who asks. It feels like a perpetual beach vacation. The apartment has roughly the quality of one of those pre-fab beach condos. The weather’s been warm enough to keep the windows open and walk barefoot on the carpet. Davis Square feels like a landlocked Ocean City, MD – chintzy craft stores, a variety of restaurants and pubs, everything within walking distance, etc. Plus, the sheer joy of living by myself has made the last month – it’s only been a month! – feel like a vacation.

The other day I discovered a few ants in the apartment. Not a lot, only six or seven maybe. They clustered around a scrap of food that had slipped off the table from the night before. I wiped it up with one of those Chlorox disinfecting wipes (to kill the ants and the smell all at once). I suppose I should be concerned but I can’t quite manage. If ants have to exist anywhere in my apartment, I would rather find them somewhere they should be (on the floor near food) then somewhere they shouldn’t (in the cupboards, in my pillowcase, pouring out of the shower, etc).

Packed weekend; updates later.


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