Boy, I wish I had a dog.

Four a.m., I've been up for an hour, and today will not suck.

I woke up an hour ago to the sound of drunken shouting and the screeching of tires in the parking lot. Where I used to live, this would not be an issue; in fact, it was a normal part of daily life. A car landed in our front yard about once every two months, propelled by somebody who'd already had too much to drink and who was looking to beat closing time at the closest liquor store.

But here it's odd to hear yelling at 3 o'clock in the morning. Or any time, for that matter. So I was wide awake, listening for running footsteps or gunshots or screams, when the Great Dane next door started to bark.

Woof. Woof. Woof.

Nothing frantic, nothing hysterical. Just the thoughtful, measured "woof" of a dog that outweighs the people it lives with.

It struck me simultaneously that not only would a Very Large Dog be a good thing to have, but that anybody who keeps a Very Large Dog in a thousand-square-foot, third-story walkup apartment is dedicated in a way I can't even imagine.

Anyway, having the big guy next door makes me feel safer. Knowing that he's going to produce a subsonic "woof" at a disturbance dozens of yards away makes me feel better about somebody trying to get in here.

Why today will not suck

As any nurse will attest, there are some weeks when you lose track of time completely. It's a sad day when you have to depend on your patients to reorient you to date and time, but it happens. I had the sudden, horrible conviction that I actually had to work today, and had to go check my calendar to see if I was right. Nope. No working today. Which means farmer's market and natural food store and nap.

Speaking of which, I found something remarkable at the grocery store yesterday. Corn was two bucks for five ears, so I bought five, intending to prepare it somehow for dinner last night. When I shucked the first ear, I discovered that what I'd bought was perfectly ripe white corn with tiny, sweet kernels. So I cut it off the cob, steamed it in the microwave for three minutes, and dressed it with butter and salt and pepper. Yum.

Enough foodwhoring. Kelly wants to hear the story of the hospital hobbyist who spent six weeks without seeing a doctor, so maybe I'll tell that one later. Right now it's time for leftover dressing and gravy and another cup of joe.