I punked out on the usual Thursday evening walk last night. It was late by the time I got home, and I was seriously tired, so I made dinner, talked to my daughter a bit, and then installed myself on the couch with a book and knitting.

My husband headed out for a tournament. I don’t know whether I have mentioned before that he is a very good pool player. He has trophies for it. He has been playing in this local tournament for months, taking his team to continuing victory. We wished him luck and sent him off.

#2 son and I whined and begged until #1 son went out and bought us candy bars. Then we watched Burn Notice on TV and ate said candy bars, and I guess that is as low as I was able to sink.

I was thinking about a little conversation Lostarts and I had. She maintained that it is worse to say negative things on your xanga than to say them out loud to people in the physical world. This she based on the sensible point that a lot of people could conceivably read what we say, and also that our readers might not care to have to read negative things.

I don’t say negative things about other people very often, either aloud or in writing, but I do whine at my xanga every August. I tend to think that this is okay, for two reasons: a) it’s my journal and I’ll whine if I want to (you are singing that line, I hope), and b) you don’t have to read it, while you sort of have to listen when people tell you things.

I figure that you could look at your calendar and say, “Ah, it’s August, Fibermom will be whining. I’ll go back and read her in September.”

So today I want to complain in a peevish way about something very impersonal and unimportant. You have been warned.

Southern Living, in their most recent issue, showed a house with a bookcase prominently featured, and the books were shelved with the spines toward the wall. Yes, you read that right. The pages of the books were facing out.

Now, Southern Living is unsound on book storage in general. They are always showing books in tall stacks with a vase of flowers on top, an arrangement which only works if you never actually read your books or even look things up in them.

But this was a new low.

I guess the idea was to provide a uniform beigeness, but how on earth is anyone supposed to find the books? And if you never want to retrieve books, why keep them at all?