Strange moments in adulthood.

I just... didn't have a fight with my mother. It feels funny, fight or flight all balled up in my stomach. When I'm angry is the only time I'm good at witty repartee, the cutting word, the glancing dig at someone else's behavior. I was furious at certain points this morning. But drama no longer becomes me, if it ever did.

The following is just me processing what happened. I really don't care if anyone else reads it. I just don't write if I don't have an "audience." ( The not particularly grisly and really very mundane details. )

( The background (possibly more interesting). )

I guess I just got that replay people always wish they had. I better go get ready to go into the library.

A small ferret collecting small things and learning about small libraries.

Hi, kids! Today I finished alphabetizing the Juvenile Fiction and moved to Juvenile Nonfiction. Guess what! There are some amazingly interesting books in non-fiction, even in the first shelf!

The Dewey puts the books on computers right next to the books on Witchcraft right next to the books on psychology right next to the books on Christian Thought (including D is for Dinosaur). And that's just the first shelf. I can't wait to find out what I see tomorrow.

NAMING QUESTION: I got my art bulletin board up at last, but I won't be able to put the title up until tomorrow. The trouble is, my title SUCKS. If you had to transmit the idea that the library art is available to check out, how would you headline it? (Please comment.)

In materialist news, I now own eight different kinds of stamps, from salamanders and bats to Arabic writing to Audrey Hepburn to MONKEYS. I own Republicans for Voldemort bumper stickers (for which I feel vaguely guilty, as I try not to be that partisan). I own tasty, tasty office supplies: high quality paper for printing resumes, high quality envelopes for mailing them, and a date stamp for keeping track of my incoming mail.