Somewhere in the dreamland between work, sleep and taxi rides I received a suggestions of sorts that I pick up the new Wilco album. I think it was something to do with the egg on the cover. Or mabye I’m turning into a ghost? I’d caught a glimpse of friends before being snatched back into work’s familiar womb, last weekend. This weekend I’m alone with my thoughts. Idle hands, devil’s playthings. I can lay some money down on a few more CDs and another book, and pretend that I can remember what to do with free time. Nothing feels quite right, because it’s all so lacking in urgency – a counterpoint to the working week, but it’s so hard to just unwind.