August 2011
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Elizabeth Hardwick’s introduction to The Collected Letters of William James.
I was starting to worry all this packing and unpacking and rearranging was taking its toll, but last night I pulled up pictures of electric rolling chairs from the 1920s in less than 30 seconds.
“Can I braid your hair?”
“Yes.”
Privately, I refer to my crockpot as my cauldron.
Sundays are the same everywhere, I guess.
CORGI SIGHTING AT THE BAKERY.
Starting to wish the ‘beyond’ of Bed Bath and Beyond was a portal to another dimension made entirely out of dust ruffles.
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The first few days of not having curtains were great because I convinced myself I was going to sleep the cycle nature intended me to sleep and start looking like a fresh-faced milkmaid from a soap advertisement.
I’ve changed my mind and will be buying curtains today.
I’ve been sitting in the exact same (very uncomfortable) position for the last four hours, and still no boxes have been delivered.
“I guess I’m just gonna put my slips and stuff in the drawer of the bookcase?”
“That seems really representative of your personal brand.”
Also, in case anyone ever doubts my women’s college credentials, I just carried an air-conditioner 14 blocks and installed it by myself.
