I just changed the cats' litter boxes. There is nothing remarkable about that statement, other than it being true, and other than the fact we have outdoor cats. Forget the fact our outdoor cats have litter boxes. It makes little sense, but that's immaterial here.

What is material, is that the litter boxes are in the garage.

Our cars are in the driveway.

That the cars are in the driveway has nothing to do with the cats. No, the cars are in the driveway because our upstairs bathroom is going through a total overhaul, and the men working on the project need a place for their tools and equipment.

There are workhorses upholding a makeshift table, a giant saw for cutting tile and cement board, and a few five-gallon buckets. The remaining space is taken up by a cacophony of objects, including what was once in the bathroom and is now on loan for this exhibit, an exhibit I like to call, "A Bunch of Crap." These things will move back into the bathroom when the project is completed: a claw-footed tub, and a vanity. But this is not all our garage holds. There are also some of the kids' toys from the summer. A big wheel, five bikes, some athletic equipment, two ladders, a lawnmower, shovels for the snow that is sure to come, rakes for leaves that have come and still remain. A couple of Rubbermaid cans to hold our rubbish. And, lest I forget, two fresh litter boxes.

Is it just me, or is it easier to write when you're upset about something?

Or am I justifying my paucity of posts by saying, in general, I'm a happy person?

OK, now that I have that out of the way, here's today's rant: Borders Books is going downhill, and picking up speed on the way. At least in terms of its brick and mortar stores, and at least from what I saw at its Flint location the other day.

Borders is a Michigan institution, and, for a period of time, was my favorite store. I could spend a good couple of hours there. On Saturday, however, I had a hard time filling up 30 minutes. I went only because I was in the neighborhood, and discovered in the time I was there that there is little reason for me to go back.

I searched the magazine rack for a particular poker magazine. Not there. I searched for any poker magazine. Not there. I looked for other magazines I like to read, Esquire, The New Yorker, and another magazine someone I respect has said is worth reading, The Atlantic. Not there, not there, not there. It was jaw dropping. I looked at some computer magazines, and saw one of interest that detailed the best apps for the iPhone/iTouch. I was ready to buy, and then noticed the price tag - $20! Another jaw-dropper.

Next I ventured into the heart of the store and saw a new album by Ray LaMontagne on an endcap. My interest was piqued. Wondered if I could listen to it and headed back to the music area. Noticed the area had been reduced in size by more than half. Understandable given the trend to on-line music purchasing. There were several small signs saying you could listen to music at special 'listening stations', but I couldn't locate any of these stations. Caught an employee coming off his break and asked him if it was possible to listen to this album. Maybe, he said, taking the album from my hands and walking me over to a computer screen. He typed it in, and expressed surprise that the album was even in the store. "Nope," he eventually said, this wasn't one of the few albums available to preview. "But if it's any help, it is selling well!"

I asked him what was up with the magazines. He told me they get different publications on a rotating basis, and they get what they're given. WTF?

In the end, I enjoy being able to buy product online. I just never thought it would come at such a cost.

I don't put pen to paper much anymore, but one week ago today we embarked on a family camping trip. It seemed like a good idea to take notes at the time. Here is the journal from that trip.
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The kids are helping me clean the house this afternoon. It should be noted that this is not a regular occurrence (for them or myself). Five minutes in, Claire, the 8-year old, says in a choppy, staccato voice: "We Are Dad's Robots," and answers my requests by saying, "Yes, Master!"
Works for me.

So, I'm downstairs doing my thing because the wife is upstairs watching The Bachelor. It's not that I won't ever watch The Bachelor - I watched most all of one show a few weeks ago - but this particular bachelor is pretty lame, and I'm not into glam women who wear too much makeup, and after 30 minutes I knew which girl he was going to choose to make miserable. I was right.

But I digress. Joni comes down asking if we have any Coke in the house.

"No, but I'll be happy to run out for you if you want," I say.

"No, that's OK," she says before retreating back upstairs.

The show ends and she comes back down an hour later.

"Did you get any Coke," she asks?

"Uh, no. You told me not to go."

"Yeah, but I thought you'd go anyway."

This story is probably familiar to those of you who have been involved with a significant other for any length of time. This isn't the first time this sort of thing has happened to me, at least. The first time, in a prior relationship, I was really thrown for a loop. I thought to myself, WTF, and then beat myself up for being so, I don't know, unintuitive and insensitive. But this time I just had to laugh. You sleep with someone, a switch goes off and now you can automatically read their mind.

So, yeah, I then ran out and got the Coke. Because I love her.

And I came back home.

And she was sleeping.

I'm very tired, and yet excited at the same time. Tomorrow I begin my defence in what last year was the biggest Scrabble win of my tournament career, down in Warren at the February Fury. I fully realize how difficult and how improbable the task is, and yet anything is possible. I could be out after two games. Hope not.
Haven't got much live action in over the last couple of months, and have probably played more games on Facebook than in the clubs. Take that for what it's worth when filling out your roto sheet. For those of you who are interested, I'll be posting updates of some form on my facebook and twitter (baxwest) feeds, assuming there's an Internet connection.