"I was delayed," said Gandalf, "and that nearly proved our ruin."
� which is to say, my dear imaginary one(s), that a demon has possessed our phone lines (if you don't believe me, you can ring up our house & behold my voice screaming at you, above the howling of the demon: "hello? who is this? who? what do you want? hang up! the end is nigh!").
also, since we made the right-on brilliant decision to move smack at the end of the academic quarter, we have not had time to unpack. the house is an obstacle course. an obstacle course with wood panelling in the downstairs rooms, & a freestanding tub upstairs. the stereo languishes in pieces throughout the house. i have been sitting around rereading tolkien & listening to nothing. the other day i wrote a five-page paper (five pages! my intelligence feigns it is insulted) which claimed that piaget, were he alive today, happily assimilating & accomodating, would be way gung-ho pro-homeschool. (i did not say "way gung-ho pro-homeschool" in the paper, although i wanted to.)
this comes to you from an architecturally-dated & very comfortable branch library. there is a boy sitting behind me who looks like someone i dated in high school: like a time-capsule-preserved (encapsulated?) version of him. only skinnier. but with the same mannerisms.
that is all.
LOVERICKA
