This is why I don't drink any more... those mornings after that go on all day and keep you from enjoying the next night, let alone going on again.

Even though I stayed up much too late last night and slept much too late this morning, I did get some things done. Not much. But I did two loads of laundry, a good thing to do on the weekend, when electrical demand is lower. And I managed to change the nectar in the hummingbird feeder, although I left a trail of red drops all across the white carpet.

But I didn't get out at all. I didn't cut back the blackberries, as I'd planned. I didn't even get to the post office or pick up the newspaper. I felt as if I were wrapped in gauze; that's how little I could move my body at anything close to normal functioning.

And I couldn't keep my eyes open or my mind in gear. I'm in the middle of three different books, and I couldn't concentrate on any of them enough to make any real progress. I watched movies and baseball instead. I'm hoping to get a little more sleep tonight, so that I can get more accomplished tomorrow.

The weather didn't help today. There was a thin layer of overcast. A chilly wind blew through the trees all around me. That would probably have been enough to keep me indoors anyway, especially after being out in the cold air last night.

I don't want to say anything bad about my experience at Pac Bell Park, but I have some advice for whoever's in charge of the concessions there. Condiments! The chopped onion dispenser had no onions. The relish dispenser was empty as well. And the only choice of mustard was the bright yellow kids' stuff. As I told Eric, I don't think I've eaten a hot dog with nothing on it but yellow mustard since I was about seven.

By the way, we did finally get to try the Krispy Kremes. They sell them in boxes of four, and the two of us split a box and shared a carton of milk. I'm glad I had the experience, but we both mentioned other donuts that we like better. Maybe it's because these were sold off a cart in a ballpark, but they were not impressive. Good, but not great. Sorry.

Eric stunned me last night by suddenly spouting haikus, out of the blue. I had no idea. They were not deathless existential poems, but he made them up as we went along. It's the Fight Club influence, he tells me. After seeing the movie and reading the book, he started writing haikus, and the more he did that the more he started thinking in 5-7-5 verse.

It was a seriously surreal experience for me.

One year ago (sort of, almost): I'm happy with my Mother's Day entry from last year, and I'd like to say that everything I wrote about Mom still applies, except that we're all a year older. We're taking Mom to see Bill Cosby for Mother's Day this year, and we're all getting together at Suzanne's for dinner (provided by my enterprising and resourceful nephews). Expect pictures.