I'm not especially enamored of driving. But lately, I've been looking for excuses to get in the car, especially without the kids.

I know, I know, this is doing nothing to wean me off my dependence on foreign oil, but really, if this was in your CD player, you'd be eager, too.

I love listening to David Sedaris read his own material, so I usually borrow the audio version of his books from the library rather than the print version. I've been so knocked out by Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim that I think I might even buy the print version -- it's hysterically funny in parts, and, surprisingly, for Sedaris, touching and nuanced in others. Thankfully, there aren't any fiction pieces in this collection of essays (or at least not that I've listened to so far) -- I tend to find his forays into fiction too misanthropic and unpleasant for my, ahem, delicate sensibilities.

A kid-free car optimizes my listening pleasure, for I don't have to worry about them overhearing language that is probably not entirely appropriate for the toddler set. When driving with them yesterday, I made the mistake of turning on the CD player in the midst of an essay about Sedaris's brother, Paul, who I'd known from previous books is a connoisseur of elaborate and inventive profanity. Later today, I'll have to drum up a reason to run an independent errand so I can see how the essay -- concerning Paul's wedding, officiated by a psychic and attended by a canine flower girl -- ends. And where can I drive after that to hear the next essay? Road trip, anyone?