day two hundred fifty-nine.

another day, another wolf man.

norman rockwell meets soundgarden : book cover edition.

an envelope kind of went through something, or perhaps was dragged through it, on the way here.

it necessitated a letter of condolence from the post office and an encasement of plastic.

alas, i believe i was merely spared the trouble of opening the envelope myself (and such tasks are really too much for a lady of delicate constitution).

the forces and joys of the postal service are still strong.

day two hundred thirty-five.

from the desk of a cataloger:

one.

two.


three.

four (or, why children's books often don't have author photographs).



and the neighborhood

a rugby game has been watched in the park today, sweet corn and brewed root beer consumed, and a book sale attended to. the possibilities of an afternoon nap are currently being explored.

day two hundred thirty.

(i'm looking at you, jessica)

i started work this morning, in the land of snarky reviews pasted into books and odd subject matter:

then my bank was inexplicably playing "up" to an audience of no one.

dinner.

long day, but i returned home to mail and the soundtrack of sufjan's ode to the apocalypse.
a good start to the semester, i'd say.

day one hundred sixty-four.

ah, electricity.
bringer of light, producer of sound, promoter of cooled air, facilitator of half-days when thy should fail to function in the workplace.

i spent the afternoon running my formerly-known-as saturday errands: picking up a prescription at one of the two walgreen's stores in the district, going to a swanky trader joe's, and writing a "professional reflection."
now i am free to museum this weekend!

(i came home to some mail too)

day nine.

greetings from my mailbox.
this level of enthusiasm for service makes me want to dry clean all of my clothing.
thank you, cover of "fistful of dollars," holiday edition.

oh yes, and it's fedora friday: