Okay. It�s been established that I love the new place (transoms, wainscoting, wood floor and cat-friendly window ledges) and neighborhood (brick streets, old houses, aesthetically pleasing, old-fashioned streetlamps) and living in town is new and exciting. Enough already. But dear lord, moving is so expensive, and I�m starving for want of new music. The list, she just grows and grows, and food and bills are so dull.

Last weekend was Summer on Southport in Chicago, but with the move, I didn�t have to fret about the sick car or money for a hotel room. The magnificent Andrew Bird was playing, and I�m sad to have missed it. Since I�m a glutton for punishment, I foolishly looked at the schedule for the Hideout Block Party this morning.

Just shoot me now. Not only do part of the proceeds benefit Alejandro Escovedo, but Handsome Family, Andrew Bird, Frisbie, Pernice Bros. and The Drapes will be playing. And more. I want that.

If one could have maintained a friendship with her ex, she could cut corners by staying with him and hoping his guilt would motivate him to buy her drinks. Reb would go, but there�s her conference on Sunday, so that�s rough. Huh. It�s so hard to be high-powered, financially strained publishing professionals in a world so full of delicious music.

And yet I spend my evenings at home alone, attempting to reattach the highest cabinet doors ever (someone painted over the holes), listening to David Sedaris over and over, shouting at the cats and counting the white hairs springing forth from my crown.