A while back, I started thinking I was becoming crazy. I mean really crazy, seeing things that don't exist flitting around. Black things, to be precise. And then I got really surprised when it turned out I wasn't crazy. I had a mouse in the house.

This little home is a haven for mice: the construction is a bit shoddy, and there are lots of crevices and hole through which a mouse can get into the foundation and from there easily to the main floor. I tend to be somewhat liberal with anal retentiveness (read: I am a slob ) and this probably made for a perfect match. I had a mouse.

I didn't think it was possible, but we are experiencing drought conditions in Ninole! I mean, all is relative, and a drought here is wetter than a winter in San Francisco, but it's a nice change from the usual page. I do not have to wake up in the middle of the night because the rain is rapping on the metal roof, and I can open and close the gate without getting drenched.

Of course, for us on catchment, a drought is a serious issue; it is made even worse by knowing there are no processes in place to get to water, a little like cities that don't experience snow frequently drown in chaos as soon as the first snowflakes fall. My neighbors, whose catchment tank was affected by the October earthquake, are wondering whether they can tap into the nearby county tank in case of need. I probably could help them out, too, but I am going to wait with offering help until the situation is sorted out.

Phil, a friend, told me not to worry about the refrigerator, but about the generator - that's the item most frequently stolen around here. Well, you know what: that's what happened to me: I got here late last night, only to find that the generator(s) had gone. Missing were: (a) the good generator; (b) the bad generator; (c) the two gas canisters; (c) the chain and lock that tied them to the post. I did a quick inventory, and it looks like there is more missing, but the house has been left alone. (There is something sacred.)

I am somewhat puzzled: what is a man to do without a generator? I mean, you can't really live here without, and if someone steals your generator, they are pretty much screwing you the same way the "Bicycle Thief" stole the commuter bike in the famous movie.

Well, who would have known? After five years, I finally got myself a new bike again - a Honda CBR 600 RR. It's a great bike, I always loved looking at it, and the only reason I had to do without a bike for so long was that I didn't have a garage to put it in. Now I have it (have had it for a year), and it's time to live dangerously again.

The bike is from craigslist, the owner a nice kid that was terribly concerned about my wrecking it when I got there for a test ride. I didn't feel very confident, but his fretting made me downright anxious.

Of course, the first thing that happens is that I kill the engine. Hoa (that's the guy's name) immediately had me sign a "you down it, you buy it waiver", and repeated probably twenty times that if I felt uncomfortable, I should just come back later.