Navigating by the Light of the Dome

Y'all, I'm not seriously going to write an epic poem about Billy Joel and Stephen King going on a magical quest. I ... well, I was about to say "I'm not quite that crazy yet," but of course I'm the one who got lost and had a panic attack yesterday while trying to pick Chris up from a car rental place, and the place wasn't just in a familiar neighborhood; it was in a neighborhood where I lived for ten years. My antediluvian neighborhood, or very nearby. Also very near the Superdome, which you'd think would be a REALLY GOOD LANDMARK. For a minute or two it was like one of my recurring nightmares where I'm stuck somewhere far away -- Wyoming or the like -- and have to find my way home by driving. I mostly hate driving. So I don't think I'm a very good judge of how crazy I am right now, but I'm not a poet and I know it.

(I did end up using the Superdome to reorient myself and eventually find Chris. Thank you, Saints.)

If I can leave the house, I think I'm having dinner with the Straubs tonight: Peter, Susan, and Emma. I only got to meet Emma briefly at the party and I'd like to talk to her some more. I'd also like to see at least some of the Dresden Dolls' show at Tipitina's tonight (it's a benefit for the Gulf), but that seems like maybe too much to hope for. Well, you never know.