The ceiling fan whirs. The street outside is quiet.
It's after eleven on a weeknight, the corners of my eyes are achy from the small glass of wine I had earlier and I have to pee. Bad.

I sit here at my computer/stereo instead. My roommates have all gone to bed and my cat, too. My attention is absolute, though, the house now quiet around me and finally I sit back. The sum total of my work: a list of songs in the perfect order. The Perfect! Order! I tell you. And the perfect length (clocking in just under 59 minutes).

Making mix tapes(/cds/insert your medium here) is a hobby that has continued, largely unaltered, since earliest adolescence, and nothing has the power to calm and content me in quite the same way. Nothing gives such pleasure as hearing one song melt into the next just the way it should.
That said, my West Coast friend: you are in for the music deluge. Watch out.