Love: The scruffly, bearded fellow that pushes his clattering shopping cart around the neighborhood in the early hours, picking up recyclables from the streets, sidewalks, and parking lots. I know he's doing it for a buck, but I like to pretend that he's just another fellow tree-hugger. I smile and say "good morning" to him, and it makes him a little bit nervous.

Not so much: I know nobody is awake yet and there are only a few cars on the road, Reme, but *must* you choose the middle of the crosswalk to take a luxurious morning crap? Really? [This highly entertains everyone that drives by while I place myself between the dogs and whichever direction traffic is coming from. I got three smiles and waves thanks to Reme's thoughtlessness.]

Love: Watching girls do the walk of shame on their tottering, patent leather heels with clothing that, it the bright morning light, makes them look like the hookers you beat up on Grand Theft Auto. High-larious.

Not so much: Discarded food and vomit all over the sidewalks. I see the guys from the Downtown Cleveland Alliance scurrying to clean it up, but for the dogs, it is the best buffet of the week. I spend half of the walk wrestling pizza crusts, chicken bones, and styrofoam boxes out of their fuzzy mouths. I practically have to wash my hands with hydrochloric acid when I get home.

And now, I begin my first summer of sailboat racing. There isn't the slightest whisper of a breeze this morning, so I expect to doze and, perhaps, get shouted at for not paying attention. Excellence.