ALL FIRED UP… It’s longer than that of a gnat, but Squid can’t brag about Squid’s attention span. (This cephalopod is often distracted by shiny, pretty things. Like sequins– oooh! And dog collars.)

But back to the point… what was the point?… Squid already forgot.

Kinda like some folks on Pfeiffer Beach, to whom the recent Basin Complex Fire is already a distant memory.

“I have been asking the Forest Service and fire departments for help dealing with the illegal fires, and overnight camping on Pfeiffer Beach for some years now,” e-mails a Big Sur resident, who adds that she “trusts the Big Sur Volunteer Fire Brigade wholeheartedly.” But the beach falls under U.S. Forest Service jurisdiction. “I walk early in the morning and am frequently greeted by sleepy-eyed campers complete with backpacks. Over the last week the ‘village’ back under the trees on the north end of the beach has grown. It now boasts a rock toilet, several elaborate driftwood shelters, paintings on rocks, and fire pits. The most dangerous fire pit is the one farthest back under the trees. It is reset in the morning, ready for the next night.

“What kind of idiot lights a fire under the trees? What kind of idiots allow it to continue?”

Probably the kind of idiot who… oooh, look, a colorful piece of glass!

BUYER BEWARE… Squid searched craigslist.com and found a Pottery Barn desk Squid had been eyeing for months. The owner of the mortgage company in Carmel selling the desk said she was “downsizing” because the market is “a little slow.” Riiiiiiiiiiiight.

“It’s a great deal,” the woman beamed, “and 50 percent off retail!” Still steep for a three-year-old desk, but whatever. Squid mixed, matched and waited for the final tally.

“That’ll be $775,” the owner said. Squid spurted and asked if that was really 50 percent off. “Well, like 30 percent,” the broker corrected begrudgingly. “But you better hurry ’cuz these pieces are flying out of here!”

Squid looked around the furniture-stuffed office and remembered that the ad was nearly three weeks old. Voices screamed, “You’re being had!” and Squid blew out of there empty-tentacled.

Squid decided to stop by the pretty new Pottery Barn at the Del Monte Center in Monterey for a price check. The exact desk, brand new, was– ding! ding! ding!– $649.

Squid won’t dwell on the irony of the mortgage company selling something for far more than it’s worth. But Squid now has a far better understanding of why Squid’s net worth no longer includes Squid’s humble abode.