I’ve got jury duty.
I wish I could include the picture I just took of the Christmas tree in the assembly room. Sadly I can’t figure out how to do it.
Now I’m listening to a commercial for chronic dry eye. I’m sure I have it.
I keep hearing references to Bartleby the Scrivener lately. People’s children in particular are showing Bartleby-like tendencies. I could probably reread it today, since I haven’t read it since I was 16. Anyway, I can easily imagine him working in this building.
Oh! Something’s happening! Our Tender, who has a beautiful African accent, is speaking. Oh, it’s nothing.
Shoot me now.
I’m reading the new John Lanchester–Capital. But I’m having a hard time caring about it. I loved his early books. Debt to Pleasure and Mr Phillips. Hmm.
I slump again into my coma.
(Later, as an act of rebellion, I plugged it in.)