I've No Excuses Left, Except I love you.




As I was driving home from the Salvation Army/Used Bookstore/Dropping off the Twins outing, I mentally scoured my room for a place to put them. There was no empty shelf, no lonely drawer, not even a space along the wall to put the box. It was coming, I knew it. The laughing, tired tirade on my lack of space and abundance of useless articles. But these are the least useless of all, though perhaps I'm not the best character witness. It's an addiction. A Psycosis. Nothing I can get worker's comp for. Nothing I deserve worker's comp for at least.


I bought 16 new (well, new to me.) books to-day. The Testament, By John Grisham. Two Short Stories(Bartleby & Benito Cereno), by Herman Melville. Misalliance a debate in one sitting, by George Bernard Shaw. Anna Karenia, Tolstoy (in RUSSIAN!). Russia and the West, Kannan. And an 11 VOLUME SET OF CLASSICS!





I was entirely justified. Really. They are all wonderful books and they were only about $15.00 all together. Still, I rather hope my mother doesn't notice.

-- G 'Bye, Sonya --

. ( 29.7.04 ) .