One of those days

The used book section of the Sugar House DI is amazing. But wait a week or two for the books to be replenished, because we bought everything.

While we were there, a lady in a pink cowboy hat threw into the garbage half of the writings of every great western thinker since Socrates, because one book in the beautiful series had a little water damage. She said she was afraid that black mold had spread to the other books. I told her that black mold is black, and visible, and cannot be conjured into existence by someone in a pink hat who is scared of books [paraphrased]. She stopped at Milton.

I thought that this is what it must have felt like to watch the first monkey fly into space—look at that primate, with the collective effort and intelligence of all ages combined under her fingertips—who gave her access to that?

When we got home today I had to decide if I should drink out of the blender or a baby bottle. We have a hard time justifying doing dishes on the weekend. Perhaps an outside observer would consider my habits too, to be a bit primitive.