Erin and I took an accidental four-hour siesta, woke up starving (with long Rip Van Winkle beards), and headed out for pasta just before the restaurant closed. We went for cocktails afterward, and ran into a bunch of roommates celebrating their friend’s thirtieth birthday. They had ice cream cone cupcakes. Score.

Erin and I spent an evening going through my closet figuring out what to sell at the Photojojo stoop sale. We were up until 2 a.m., then got up pretty early the next morning for the Saturday sale, only to discover that the sale was actually on Sunday. Wah-waaaaah.

I didn’t take any photos of the actual purge, so this is an excellent opportunity to tell you about a slightly OCD style trick I have. When I’m wearing something I like, I take a photo with my phone. That way I can look up a cute outfit on the quick when I’m feeling indecisive.

I also do it when I’m packing, so I have a record in my phone of how I intended to wear everything. That’s why my room looks like it’s been ransacked by the Secret Service. (Ed note: Most of the guys in the Secret Service are loose and kind of nosy, so it’s possible the U.S. government is indirectly responsible for the disarray in one or more of these photos. Also, if anyone finds me in Pakistan later, I was just hiking. I got lost.)

And before you even ask, yes. Everything interesting came from thrift stores. I’m starting to do that just to piss you off. I mean… to inspire you.

My smoke alarm keeps beeping.

BEEP!

BEEP!

I change the batteries and it’s good for a few days before it starts chirping again.

BEEP!

BEEP!

How many times should I replace the batteries before I just take it down? And drop kick it against the wall? And scream at it in short, repetitive bursts?

I think three.

We had some chocolate at the Ferry Building. Then we had a chocolate sample. Then we went to find more chocolate.

Hank asked why the crabs weren’t moving. Hm. I told him we’d ask the Internet.

Erin crashed with me for a few days while she was in town for a conference, so we stopped by the coffee shop for breakfast and ran into a pod of bloggers.

Lynn, from Satsuma Press, lives in Oregon. I didn’t recognize her until she introduced herself, though I’ve written countless thank you notes on her stationery. I felt so affectionate when I realized who she was, like we had all that gratitude in common.

Rena recently sold Rare Device, and now she consults with entrepreneurs, especially small business owners. She’s one of my favorite thinkers, and I feel lucky every time I run into her in the neighborhood.

Lynn was staying with Heidi, who I’d met somewhere before, but neither of us could figure out exactly where. Mutual friends, fill us in.

Together, we took over the communal table and edged out some poor guy reading on his Kindle. But we all know how I feel about that guy anyway.