Mille anni in oculis Tuis sicut dies hesterna quae pertransiit et vigilia nocturna

On the other hand this week in oculis meis went by like a shot. Wasn't yesterday the 22d? The White Sox swept all before them. Harriet Miers found she had better things to do than put up with snide remarks from irritable right-wing bloggers and assorted senators. The McCourts had a rush of brains to the head and decided Mr DePodesta and his laptop would be happier elsewhere. (This last described by Bill Plaschke in this morning's Times as giving the Dodgers the Heimlich maneuver. Wonderful turn of phrase.)

And, of course, since we were at the heart of all that there was no time to devote to The Inn. It's the anxiety, you know. The anxiety stifles creativity, what with all the waiting by the phone trying to decide which of the vacancies to accept when the President or the McCourts call. We've almost decided to go with the Dodgers' GM position. Sure, the Supreme Court position is tempting. But that DC weather. That could be the deciding factor. And it would mean giving up our residence here on the fashionable, albeit understated part of Lakewood (i.e., on the east side but west of the river). Decisions, decisions.