Since I've been reporting lately on the music I've been listening to, I should mention that I gave myself a chance for a good day yesterday by playing the three U2 CDs that I own: the enigmatic Boy from 1980, the wonderful The Joshua Tree from 1987, and the utterly incredible Achtung Baby from 1991.

Maybe it was the music, but somehow it was the most productive day I've had in awhile. The sky was mostly slate gray, except for an hour or so in the middle of the afternoon when shafts of sunlight shot through the clouds and lit up the fields around the Fortress. It seemed like a kind of promise.

Today's background score, so far, is Sting (early solo stuff, before he went all soft), Sade (the new one, Lovers Rock) and Al Jarreau. Should be another good day.

There's a motion-sensitive light on the front of the garage that would be a handy thing to have, if only it worked right. Unfortunately, it sometimes senses motion when there is in fact none, and then beams unwanted brightness through the cracks in my bedroom mini-blinds all night long.

This happened Tuesday night, after the blackout, and I made up my mind to turn it off yesterday so that it wouldn't happen again last night. Well, I forgot about it until it was almost dark, and when I went out to flip the switch, I saw this old oak tree standing starkly against the last rays of a hot pink sunset.

So I ran in for my camera and took the shot, which would have been more spectacular about five minutes earlier (and pointless five minutes later, as I found out when I had to go back out and turn off the light I'd forgotten was the reason I was standing in the cold in the first place).

The mail has brought me another surprise, this time something I didn't even order. I have to find a way to remember to send back those Book of the Month Club cards, or drop out of the club altogether. This is the second time it's happened since I moved here, which isn't that long ago.

The dual main selection that I acquired in this manner isn't the kind of stuff I ordinarily read. It's the new Patricia Cornwell and the latest John Sandford (but not one of the Prey novels). I'll find a way to fit these into my reading schedule, even though I'd rather pick out my own books, thank you. I'm reading more these days (or rather, these nights, with nothing worth watching on 200 channels).

I'm still falling too far behind on opening my mail, which is the sad reason this happens. It's also the reason I've had two late charges in a row on my credit card. The fact that it's nobody's fault but my own makes it that much more frustrating.

According to my on-this-day mailing list, it was on this day in 1836 that Martin Van Buren was elected the eighth U.S. president. What? December 7, and they didn't have a president-elect yet? (It's also the 95th birthday of Gerald Kuiper, the astronomer who discovered the moons of Uranus. Feel free to make up your own joke.)