First off: laundry is accomplished. Oh ye of little faith.

While my clothes were in the dryers, I walked over to Tower Records and picked up Paul Oakenfold's Perfecto Presents Another World. I deeply love Oakenfold's Tranceport but it's getting a little old as workout music. This album is a 2-CD set.

And the first disc just sucks. The second, so far, has some redeeming qualities, but Oakenfold's gone all house on me. Lots of intrusive vocals. The reason I listen to trance is so I can trance out to it, and this CD keeps distracting me.

Before there was Paul Oakenfold, there was Tangerine Dream. These guys were doing trance in 1967. I found them after experiences with Switched-On Bach and Kraftwerk (oh man). One of my quirky computer friends, a strange and beautiful kid, turned out to be some certifiable form of crazy and was packed off to a residential psych school. Before he left, he gave me a stack of LPs and asked me to keep them and listen to them. Three or four turned out to be Tangerine Dream. It was my chill-out music. Most people think it's boring.

I have ADD. I am very easily distracted unless I'm hyperfocusing, which is basically what it sounds like but not really under full voluntary control. I have a hard time filtering stimuli, especially sounds; I have to turn off a stereo to answer the phone. I can't write with music on. Unless it's trance.

So I want to know: where's the truth in advertising here? Paul Oakenfold is an arrogant, pretentious little punk. I need new music for the gym. Again. It's all about the groove. No distractions.

I also picked up a pair of super-sturdy wrist guards for use with the Rollerblades I inherited during Risa's pre-trip divestiture. I stopped in the bike shop first, where I've always taken my bike, and chatted with the guy I know there while someone's tiger-coat pit bull jumped on me and licked me. The someone turned out to be Dakota in the back, and the dog turned out to be Vinny, but the bike shop had conceded the war for rollerblade business to the place across the street and only sold bike stuff.

I knew where the place was across the street; I'd had a friend who only took off her skates to sleep and shower. There was a television inside with a video of snowboarders jumping off drops and sailing through the air and carving huge turns through soft powder. It was hypnotic. I zoned in on the video until someone asked if he could help me find something and I remembered watching a kid wreck her knee on a snowboard at a ski resort where I once worked.

The guy asked a few questions about my skating, gave me the sturdier model, and didn't give me static about knee guards. "The wrists are the most important." Makes sense to me. Now I need warmer weather.

I also need some Advil because the laundromat is down a flight of stairs. Plus I live in a walk-up. I got my workout lugging the cart and the duffel up and down the stairs. (It was a lot of laundry.) I looked really seriously at my gym bag tonight, even packed clean clothes in it. It didn't happen, but at least I made the effort.

Clean sheets tonight. I really need some sleep.