I spent the first half of my day off waiting for the man to come to fill the rat holes. Fret not, dear reader, we are not co-habitating with rodents. Two and half hours after the time we scheduled with the management company--not answering phones today-- Romanian Bruce Springsteen arrived with caulk, silicone and plaster. Please do not let your imagination wander, dear reader, there is still the kitchen light, the toilet seat and some electrical issues to address.
It was rather uninspiring before the sun burned off the clammy cold, and now, our windows are open to the last couple hours of day. Is it wrong that I should want to spend them laying down with a dead physicist instead of a computer screen?
There's a new biography on Richard Feynman. It's an unfortunate cover, but I have it under my pillow so I can kiss his face in the morning. It's rather good so far.
Also from W.W. Norton, Townie, also unfortunately covered and not yet published. I hope they print it soon, so it can hurry up and be a big deal already. Dubus the Younger wrote a phenomenal portrait of turbulent humanity.
I have a dinner in Onion Square tonight, for a children's writer whose book I have yet to see. I can speculate, but I hope they give us a copy so I can test my hypothesis. Very scientific, this book selling business.
No comments:
Post a Comment