So I'll start with the mundane, and get to the hopefully more interesting bits as I come to them. It is nice to know that when I have a truly boring day with nothing to say, I'll have a bunch of topics stockpiled.

So last night we celebrated Elvis' birthday. His presents consisted entirely of alcohol: from me, a 1963 vintage port (his birthyear), a 1985 vintage port (which should be really good), and a bottle of Jack Daniels (which I would have bought anyway as I've been gradually restocking the bar since our move, but I happened to see a bottle in a nice gift tin and figured what the hell); from a friend of ours and his German wife, a small keg of weiss bier that they brought back from visiting her parents last weekend.

I really wish we had a larger fridge. It used to have three shelves in the door (not that that would have helped the pony-keg storage situation), but two of them were pre-broken. Oh, they looked all right, until I actually started to store stuff on them. One day, as I was unloading the groceries, the middle shelf collapsed onto the bottom shelf. Casualties: one jar of pickles, new; one bottle weiss bier, foamy.

So I switched the shelves around, discovering in the process that two of them had one of their little plastic pegs broken off. The pegs, of course, are what keeps them stable and attached to the door. I put all the light stuff on top, in the shelf that seemed least sturdy.

Two days later, as I was preparing lunch, the middle shelf collapsed again. Casualties: one bottle wine, unopened; one bottle tomato sauce, half full; one two liter bottle soda, pierced by a shard of the wine bottle, which caused it to erupt all over me, the cabinets, and possibly the ceiling (I was afraid to look up, at that point. At least it was white soda.); one shelf, beyond repair.

Actually, I might have taken that one better had I not mopped the floor that morning. In fact, I had just put the damn bucket and mop away.

So now I have two shelves, and I can only use half of one of them for fear of a repeat performance.

Anyway, it was a pretty low-key kind of evening. We went out to eat at our favorite restaurant here in Cascais, which is Belgian, which isn't too surprising considering the typical offerings at Portuguese places. (Yes, I will get to a general discussion of portuguese food at some point. It almost deserves an entry of its own.) It's a nice place, the food is fab, the service good, and they always remember who we are. In a strange reversal of roles, I had the loin of lamb with port wine sauce, and Elvis had the pork loin with carmelized apples. Actually, I would have gone for the moules, but I don't usually order seafood on a Monday. For dessert, we had a glass of 10 year old port each-- on the house, as a birthday present for Elvis. They're so sweet.

Afterwards we met some friends at our regular hangout-- a pub, of course. We chatted a bit, played some darts, didn't drink too much. We were home by midnight, which I why I can't figure out why I'm so tired today.

Maybe it's because I went to the gym, although that usually leaves me feeling pretty perky. That, or what I thought were standard sinus problems (probably due to all that fresh sea air and lack of exhaust fumes), is really the beginnings of a cold. I hope not.

I joined the gym ten days ago, and have been lifting weights three times a week. It's a small gym, but with all the equipment necessary, a sauna and jacuzzi, (too) conscientious personal trainers, and located in the shopping center connected to our apartment building. The location is especially nice, as it makes it difficult to justify not going, when it takes all of thirty seconds to get there. I hope to be buff in time for Christmas. (Hey, you in the back. Stop laughing)

The best thing is that I got Elvis to join, too. Without a fight! I think it has to do with the birthday thing-- he just turned thirty-nine, forty is around the corner, and he is not taking it well. I suppose I can understand: I had no problem whatsoever with thirty, but thirty-one was a bit of a problem. Then again, I was working at least sixty-five hours a week, planning our wedding and suffering from PMS at the time, so I suppose a bit of angst was in order. In any case, I hope he perks up soon. Getting back in shape should do wonders for his disposition.

I had a good look at the toilet today. I'm thinking that once my tools get here (hopefully Thursday, keep your fingers crossed), I may be able to fix it. Until then, I've been having fairly good luck with holding the little knob up for several seconds when I flush. We shall see.

I want to thank everyone who left me a message in my guestbook-- it's making me feel all Sally Field-ish. It's nice to be missed, especially since I've missed all of you.

Speaking of which, I want to catch up on some more diaries before Eastenders comes on. I figure it will take me twenty hours or so, so I'd better get cracking.