I drove the Scout in to work today. I had a big smile on my face.

Leave it to the smarter folks in the world to show me how shortsighted I can be. Scanning over Kottke this morning I found he had posted a very good question: Why not have Sherlock, the Help Guide, and all the other HTML-based applications integrated into Safari? A very good point, and as someone who hates multiple open windows clogging the screen all the time, I wish I had thought of the question myself.

Obsessive-Compulsive dept. With each break that I take, I’m going through iTunes and cleaning up all the metadata for each song file in the catalog. Amazon’s computers must think I’m the cheapest, most schizophrenic surfer imaginable, because I query their database to fill in the blanks I don’t know for each song. I do know this: when that iPod comes, I’m going to be ready for it.

The dash light is telling me something. There are a total of four gauges on the Scout besides the speedometer. Two of them spend a total of about ten minutes a month actually lit and working— the other 432,190 minutes they remain dark, hiding just how rapidly the engine is inhaling gasoline. Which is probably a good thing. Now, I don’t drive the Scout all the time, mostly because of the mileage issues, but when I do turn the key on the mornings I drive her to work, she fires up reliably each time. I have noticed a phenomena in the last few months which lead me to believe she’s telling me something. This evening I pulled out of the parking lot at work and leaned off to the left to see how much gas I had by the weak light from the streetlamps. Somewhere between gassing up and merging onto the beltway, I looked down and noticed that the lights were back on. This is not the first time it’s happened, and I think it’s my truck’s way of asking me to not give up on her.

The ‘Joe Millionaire’ guy from TV so needs to get punched in the face. Repeatedly.