My Exceptionally Current Likes and Dislikes

Things I am enjoying (for various reasons, which may or may not be accompanied here—I haven't yet decided):

The end of Spring Break (though, i'm sure this belongs in the second list of most of my readership. Nevertheless, I am, to quote myself earlier, "pleased as punch," which is so pleased that it means I'll use a phrase without even caring for it's etymology, or caring for the Grammar of this explanation.)
Finishing another Salinger. He's such a joy to read. It's troubling, or at least I feel disturbed, that we could have similar styles if (or maybe there is no if, and we just do) I didn't try to, for my identity's sake, remove, or at least somewhat divert, that incessant stream of consciousness.
Listening to that gecko rustle through the bag that houses my cache of Western World goodies every time I turn on the kitchen light. Although, he must consider it his bag, and I'll let him; he spends more time in there than me. Still, his furniture (the Boston baked beanbag chairs and black licorice beds) will be repossessed over the course of the next few days, or possibly hours.
The pre-Opening Day anxieties that every baseball year brings. Silly me, thinking the Pirates will be contenders. You, the reader, would think I should learn.
Playing "Who's Taller?" with Vietnamese people. This never gets old. I only hope we never start playing "Who's Shorter?" That game's old just thinking about it.

Things I am not enjoying (for various reasons, which may or may not be accompanied here—I haven't yet decided):

Cooking for myself after a week's hiatus.
Sounding like Buddy Glass, because I just did finish another Salinger, but at least I no longer sound like Austen. The diction and manners inspired there brought naught but trouble to my orations and tete-a-tetes alike. I have no intention in keeping such language so much as near at hand, for it lends itself excessively to panegyrics and verbosity, devices I employ immoderately even now.
Finishing another Salinger, because once again I'm trying to identify with Seymour Glass, just as I do with Dostoevsky's Alyoshas or Duncan's Everett and Peter Chances or Potok's Danny Saunders. Seriously now, who writes stuff like "Keep me up till five only because all your stars are out, and for no other reason," and then explains it so it hits you, instead of leaving it for fluff a bad movie might try to use as it's big romantic line. Damn you Salinger. I hate getting lessons unexpectedly from someone who knows he'll get his message across. That's not the message, by the way. The message comes after that. I won't ruin it. Read "Seymour: An Introduction." Actually, the message isn't quite spelled out, but so long as you don't find me dysgraphic, I should think that you might manage J. D. just fine.
Needing sleep.
Conservation of Mass. If I got to reinvent physics, or just make some Notable Exceptions to its laws, I'd make sure that there'd be be absolutely no downside to drinking as much water as you pleased.