A thousand tiny invasions...

There is no single activity that I engage in that provokes more commentary from coworkers and strangers than biting my nails. Regardless of whether or not the individual eventually confesses that he or she is also a nail biter, on the subject of nail biting I am a naughty child and they are the scolding parent/deity who is sending me to bed without dessert.

Home, where my music's playing

My brother's graduating from high school this weekend, so I took NJ transit home. On the plus side, they've got brand new trains with individual seats and two levels and cleanliness and prettiness (though perhaps not godliness). On the down side, something about the beauty of the new trains inspired one of my fellow passengers to listen to her iPod at maximum volume and -- BONUS! -- to sing along for more or less the entire train ride. Then, towards the end of the ride, perhaps 85 minutes in, a couple, in possession of their senses of humor despite the perpetual annoyance of our serenader, decided to join in. And by join in, I mean sing totally different songs (specifically, Coldplay), presumably in hopes of alerting the songstress how obtrusive her singing was.

By the time we got to Trenton, no one seemed to have learned anything about how annoying loud train singing was, and we were forced to walk forward several cars in order to depart because the new train was too long for the platform.