When my computer crashed a few minutes ago--or should I say, when my computer wheezed and sighed and shut down a few minutes ago, since it was nothing so dramatic as a crash--I thought, Well, at least I didn't have anything open that was unsaved.
I've just realized that my entire writing for tonight was still waiting to be posted. And that means, my friends, that you'll have to wait for those deep thoughts, because I'm just not going to be rewriting them right now.
The high points:
I shopped successfully at three used bookstores tonight, and yea, it was good. They were all really good used bookstores. I have not gotten to have such a spree since I lived in Ithaca. (My excellent friend, you will be glad to know that I now own several Ann-Marie MacDonald and David Mahlouf novels!)
I ate dinner at a fine restaurant tonight and had a chance to read the beginning of Kate Atkinson's Case Histories while I sipped my French Syrah and waited for my medium-rare steak to materialize. Dining alone is its own special kind of gustatory pleasure. I feel this way about seeing movies alone, as well.
I acquired a new Bloom bag that turns out to have cost me at least 25% less than the going rate for these bags. Whereas I was happy about the bag before I came back to this room that has come to feel like home, I was downright gleeful to discover this extra piece of information. The bag features enough pockets that I suspect I could lose everything--I could lose it all!--in this one bag. Plus there's a flowered lining.
It was suggested during class this morning that I'm ready to open my own bibliography shop.
Which of these things was my favorite? No one of them is separable from the others. What a good day it's been. And another poem? Two, in fact? Yes, please. Keep pointing me in the right direction; I'm listening.