Because it is 2:34a.m. and I am have trouble sleeping these days, I've been doing a lot of thinking these days. It's been a contemplative weekend for me. All random, off course. Paging Dr. Freud, I meant "of course," but at this hour I am too lazy to backspace. You may as well know the truth. So there you have it: I'm a redundant, lazy, misspelling professional editor, but only at well, now it's 2:39 on a Sunday morning. Where did the time go?

-- Should I or should I not write a letter to the America's Choice brand generic food corporation regarding their Swiffer-like floor cleansing moist towelettes? I find the towelettes themselves exceptionally moist, but the packaging in which they come crumbles when I close the container onto my freshly cleansed surface. This is most frustrating. Their canned corn is top-notch. I would certainly mention that in any correspondence.

-- When do little children start remembering? I have scant memories beginning around age two. I remember walking along the hearth at my grandparents house and bumping my head on the bricks that held the mantle in place. My head was bleeding onto my yellow dress. I was wearing those baby tights with gigantic butt ruffles, and my cousin Adriana plopped me on the kitchen table so everyone could examine me. I thought her name was exotic. Many of my other memories are snapshots. I even watch movies from when my children were babies and don't remember those days going by. It's sad, I think.

-- Fanny-packs: why? Please stop. No excuse exists. The accompanying all-cotton short set -- ok -- comfort. Tennis shoes? Arch support. But fanny-packs. No. There are other places to store bingo chips, quarters, cameras, sunglasses, whatever it is you feel you need strapped to your waist. You don't. Stop. For the love of Christ. Stop it.

-- I'm going to law school. I wrote a personal statement that was, well, personal. It details my experience growing up, and watching my teenage brother go to adult prison for a petty crime. I discuss the way it tore our family apart and prevented me from going to Princeton, or even feeling like putting forth much effort at college. I wonder if by doing so, I was exploiting him in some way? I wonder if he felt abandoned when after his first letter home, in which he wrote that a fellow inmate had been soaked in toilet bowl cleaner and set on fire, I never wrote him or went to visit. I am studying child advocacy -- specifically juvenile justice.

-- I installed a firewire card all by myself today. Why won't my computer see my freaking video camera?

-- It is now 3:05. Why am I awake and talking to the INTARWEB? Oh right. Dick Cheney married his high school sweetheart. We could've had gay daughters together, Richard, and I wouldn't have even testified before the senate that rap music makes the children act rambunctious. You're my favorite cowboy even though I hate cowboys.