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Congratulations to the NFL referees, who changed their minds after the Colts lost and successfully handed the Super Bowl to the Pittsburgh Steelers. I watched the first half with several Jeffreys and a boatload of loud white trash at Marc Anthony's in Ashland, and the second half with just the former group back home.

After deciding against spontaneous trips to Pittsburgh, Baltimore, Washington, Staunton, New York, and Hartford, Jill and I sauntered up to Portland last night, where Byron and Alyssa showed off their new house and I showed off my new car (complete with a full bottle of wine spilled in the trunk).

Just before the trip to Maine, Jill informed me that our iBook arrived at her office. Had the weekend involved less Maining, Superbowling, and insulating, I'm sure I'd be intimate with it by now.

On Thursday night, a cop knocked on our front door to tell Jill that a neighbor had complained about her car blocking part of his driveway. Of course, this neighbor has only lived across the street from Jill for 21 years, taken on a tenant who had previously lived with Jill, and fathered Jill's prom date. Only in Framingham.

On Tuesday night, I broke my right index finger trying to steal a pass minutes into my weekly basketball games. Unwilling to give up the best exercise I get all week, I played three more games and taped it up the next day. I have close to full motion in the finger now and its purpleness has faded to a pinkbrown not unlike my natural finger hue.

I'm sure last weekend was full of blogworthy events as well, but I can't remember back that far. To be honest, I'm not sure why I keep this blog, but I'd feel like a jerk if I just gave it up.