I think that the semester is finally over. This was something to be celebrated with a drink that included lime and vodka and pineapple and mint and cilantro and cayenne pepper, and a large lump of ice. This was well earned, after finally emptying out the storage unit in Glendale (and a dark suspicion comes over one: if one hasn't missed many of the contents, other than perhaps a book or two, over the last two years, how far does one probably really need them? Though I did unearth the manuscript to my doctorate, and thought that it looked surprisingly good - much more theoretically sophisticated - about the origins of modernist art criticism - than I remember it as being); and doing a whole lot of other tasks, including cleaning the waterfall. Only, perhaps, in Los Angeles does one get to type that last phrase with a straight face.