Happy f***ing New Year!

You would think that writing a couple of paragraphs a day about nothing in particular would be easy, but life intervenes…

I spent last week in Ross helping my friend who came downstairs on the morning of new year’s eve to discover her ground floor under four feet of water. Back upstairs to wake up her husband, she couldn’t even see their cars beneath the torrent of brown water that rushed by. When the water finally receded it left a coating of mud on everything, and I do mean everything… the inside of the stove and dishwasher looked like they’d been spray painted a glorious shade of shit. If seeing your Christmas tree floating on its side next to your drowned pet bunny wasn’t bad enough, she’d been using her garage as a storage unit, which contained about, oh, another entire household worth of belongings.

Back in San Francisco, I’ve been battling with the lovely folks at Earthlink to figure out why my DSL suddenly quit. After several hours on the phone to India with very polite people who stick faithfully to their useless script and apologize profusely for the inconvenience, I was still none the better off. Thankfully, a friend’s boyfriend is not only a tech genius, he’s also a nice enough guy to give up his Sunday afternoon to help me out. As big a whiz as he is, it took three hours to fix and even then he still couldn’t get my old faithful Sony Vaio to work… sigh. Now, I’m on my iMac, which I recently purchased for the sole purpose of editing video… well, not any more, I guess!

So, isn’t this fascinating reading? Chock filled with news of the exciting life as a single in San Francisco?

I did meet a man I liked, and will continue to like, if only he’ll call me as he said he would to “compare schedules” and plan our next date. I mean, couldn’t he have planned it while he had me on the phone? Or did I say something utterly off-putting that he used that as an excuse and I’ll never hear from him again? While it won’t exactly break my heart, it does leave me with yet another ‘what the f**k was that?’ dating experience. Besides concluding “he just isn’t that into me,” my consolation is that I’m not the only one who seems to have these dating ‘joys’. Take my friend, Mr. A, for example… after getting a boy -- with whom he was cozy enough to invite to friends’ for Thanksgiving -- a killer job at the Supper Club, the boy now doesn’t have the decency to return his phone calls. What’s up with that?

Speaking of indecent men… Woody Allen’s new movie is superb. And, I finally got around to watching the first three films of Krysztof Kieslowski's Decalogue -- sheer brilliance -- oh, that was right before my DVD player decided to die...