Yesterday, I:

One. Used the “PowerPoint elastomeric acrylic latex caulk with silicone” caulking gun to grout the cracks along the living room walls and ceiling. Doesn’t that make me sound smart? Hi, my name is Bob Villa. Actually, no, I’d much rather be MacGuyver instead. Anyway, I finally understand what all the hype about being tall is. Nice view up there. My 5’1″ self really appreciated towering all the way up there by the ceiling. I got to stand on a shaky, nine-foot ladder, invite cobwebs in my hair, and pretend I knew what I was doing wielding a gun – okay, a handyman’s tool, but whatever, the end result is looking good. The sad part is, I got so used to being tall that I kept missing steps while gingerly making my way down to solid ground. I won’t even tell you how many times I almost fell off the ladder. My mother is sworn to secrecy, too, so don’t even try.

Two. Started re-reading Ray Bradbury novels I haven’t touched since high school. (I’m back in my one-book-a-day phase and loving every minute of it.) Make sure you at least read Fahrenheit 451, The Illustrated Man, The October Country, and The Golden Apples of the Sun. Especially Fahrenheit 451. Don’t say I never recommended any books to you. If you need more books, plow through this post.

Three. Spent about an hour in the evening at the California State Fair in Sacramento, listening to Maroon 5 perform live. “Listening” being the key word here, since everyone and their mother seems to be taller than me. (Remember that note about me being short?) They performed practically all the tracks off their Songs About Jane album, and managed to sound just as good (if not better) live. That takes some damn good skill, I say. Although we finally weaseled our way into a good enough spot that we could kinda sorta see the group, most of the time was still spent craning my neck and balancing on my tip-toes. Not only did Goth Girl in front of me keep turning her head to throw sneers and evil death glares my way, but then she would also comb her fingers through her hair or twist her head so as to deliberately block my view of the stage. I’ve decided that, next time, I should invest in a pair of 4-inch spike heels. That way, not only will I be taller, but I could also prepare for future encounters with Goth Girl by using the shoes to stab her if she continues to annoy me. Didn’t I say I wanted to be MacGuyver? S’all about using mundane, everyday tools in creative ways. Thank you, thank you. Hold the applause until the end, please.

Four. Vented off any lingering irritation with Goth Girl by returning to the relatives’ and spending half-an-hour twirling around my aunt’s living room with my niece, Zaynam. “Boboji!” she kept pleading, “aik aur [one more]!” I kept getting up to oblige her, spinning ’round and ’round and ’round while she clapped her hands, scrunched up her face, and giggled gleefully. At the end of it, my vision blurred and my head circling, I was beginning to doubt whether I’d be able to make the drive home. The best part was when Zaynam would stand in the middle of the room, chant, “One! Seven! Five!” and I’d yell out, “Go!” and she would twirl, arms outstretched, eyes tightly shut, only to trip over her feet and land on her face, still giggling. Word of advice to those of you who are interested in attempting this in your own living rooms: Maximize the fun of blurring colors and minimize potential injuries by keeping your eyes open while twirling.