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adfamiliares is away in Toronto this week. The house is big and empty. *snurf*
On the up side, "nosology" is a real word. But it doesn't mean what you think it means.
I got a library card today, but I tucked it into my wallet without using it; I found neither of the two things I was seeking at the Saratoga Springs Public Library (an overview of the late Roman Empire and Sandman). I did purchase a dreadful Christmas present for someone in the library's little bookstore, and I had a lovely walk in the frigid wintertime—it's been a long time, I realized, since I experienced a real New England winter. This isn't quite the real McCoy, but we're only about thirty miles too far west, so the differences are barely discernable. Some scent or character of the air carried me back to those wonderful winters of 1980-1982, when I'd just seen The Empire Strikes Back and spent many red-cheeked hours on Hoth with my action figures in the backyard. The scale of the snowdrifts and crevasses shifted in my mind, to a perspective three inches high.
Tonight, since I'm a footloose bachelor boy, I think I shall order a pizza, build a fire, and rent some horror movies. It's possible this is lame. I have no little black book to riffle through, but I do have the world's cutest cat for company. (She was curled up atop the heating vent in the closet, but is now curled up in the shoebox just to my left.)
adfamiliares is away in Toronto this week. The house is big and empty. *snurf*On the up side, "nosology" is a real word. But it doesn't mean what you think it means.
I got a library card today, but I tucked it into my wallet without using it; I found neither of the two things I was seeking at the Saratoga Springs Public Library (an overview of the late Roman Empire and Sandman). I did purchase a dreadful Christmas present for someone in the library's little bookstore, and I had a lovely walk in the frigid wintertime—it's been a long time, I realized, since I experienced a real New England winter. This isn't quite the real McCoy, but we're only about thirty miles too far west, so the differences are barely discernable. Some scent or character of the air carried me back to those wonderful winters of 1980-1982, when I'd just seen The Empire Strikes Back and spent many red-cheeked hours on Hoth with my action figures in the backyard. The scale of the snowdrifts and crevasses shifted in my mind, to a perspective three inches high.
Tonight, since I'm a footloose bachelor boy, I think I shall order a pizza, build a fire, and rent some horror movies. It's possible this is lame. I have no little black book to riffle through, but I do have the world's cutest cat for company. (She was curled up atop the heating vent in the closet, but is now curled up in the shoebox just to my left.)
