It's not PMS, as A. likes to suggest in his all-knowing way.

We moved this weekend. The house is beautiful. We feel at home already, even though stuff is everywhere. Our landladies are sweet and generous and accommodating. We were surrounded by friends all weekend long, because we're so close to everybody (we met S. and C. and L. for brunch � excuse me, breakfast, since it was at 9:00, as our friend J. pointed out emphatically � at a very cool place called Mama's Royal Cafe that's about two minutes from our house, or a 10-minute walk, on Sunday morning, and it didn't require a whole day's worth of driving to get there and back).

I think being in a nice, big, airy, sunny, pretty house might help me be less grouchy. Just a suspicion.

I'm looking for something new to read. Finishing The Autograph Man, which has had its moments, but overall has not been as enjoyable as White Teeth. I very much admire Zadie Smith's imaginativeness. But I find that her writing is sometimes too painstakingly overdramatic. Like when her characters have conversations, they make these super-theatrical gestures before they speak.

Example:

"Adam looked wistfully at another table, as if he wished he were at it. Alex took out his tobacco and tried to roll a cigarette in the manner of a man who has been unjustly wronged."

"Adam sent his glass back; Alex filled and drained his as if it were grape juice. Adam watched him, one hand scratching his head violently between two dreads."

"Alex made an International Gesture: the throwing back of head, the slight indent of front teeth on lower lip, the making of the sound pfui."

Colorful character tics, all, but enough to make a single, somewhat meaningless conversation last for pages.

I get antsy, is all.