Woke up late, around noon. Strolled around the neighborhood with Seth and James: examining the nearest convenience store, eating in the nearest park and swinging on its swings that cried like child actors, obtaining cleaning supplies from CVS in Cleveland Circle. Then we came back. We swept, mopped, vacuumed, shuffled unpacked boxes onto newly cleaned floor, and repeated over the vacated space. The house — at least our parts of it — got clean. Peter arrived with Victoria, zonked from having just returned from Brazil, and forced his way into cleaning our room. We managed to squeeze the bedframe from the basement around the winding stairs and through the kitchen, but not the wooden base. We formulated possible geometries for our double room, which was not appreciably larger than the singles upstairs. Seth drove to a town claiming to be called “Malden” to pick up Luis, who still hadn't moved in and was finally going to do so. And finally, he did!

We spotted a place in Cleveland Circle called Eagles Deli and Restaurant, specializing in very extraordinarily heavetacular burgers. Most of the guys had a King Kong; I had the Godzilla; and for $25, anyone who wants a 3-pound hamburger with 5 pounds of fries can get the Reilly Burger (provided he is completely insane). Peter thinks we're going to practice hard and attempt a Reilly by summer's end. I say “fat” chance.

I looked for some good beer in the neighboring liquor store. Their selection was not to my satisfaction, so I asked a clerk if they had any other beers. He indicated that I should follow him. I stupidly thought this meant he was going to show me some beverages preferred by discriminating palates. Instead, he stopped near the Bud Light and strenuously excreted, “The police are outside.” Huh? “The police are waiting outside.” I'm sorry, I don't understand. “Are you old enough?” Yes. “Oh, never mind then.” Not knowing where else to buy beer, I snagged something reasonable and took off. Moral: if you look young to begin with, don't wear athletic clothing to a liquor store.

Beds lined up. Bookshelf and desk in room, awaiting books and computer. When Peter got online with his Netcom account, it was the first time in days that I'd seen my email. I try to avoid such droughts except when I'm away from civilization. It felt strange, and it took a while to catch up.

Moved some more things, hung out a bit, watched some of Face/Off (I need to see the whole thing), and sleeeeept.