shelf!

yesterday, while my friends were all at the beach, I bought, assembled, and loaded a spanking new particle board bookshelf. I used to two bottom shelves for my LPs, even taking the time to separate out those which I would or should probably listen to from the streisand and streisand-esque. A one-per-every-25 streisand to everything else LP ratio is compulsory in the record collecting world. Still, the majesty of Yentl aside, the bookshelf made me happy. It was probably the best thin that happened to me all week. Sure, it was no French chick in Granada... no 5am trip across Gibraltar as a refugee...and certainly no cafe con leche, but I suppose that I have to get my simple pleasure somewhere.
Which reminds me. Hello! And welcome back to Poems Starting with And, my Europe journal turned latent aesthetic manifesto, turned other-blog. It has now been a little over three months since my shotgun movement through and from the world of jet-setting world traveller to Charlestonian workaholic. It seems like another lifetime. I have much to tell about the last three months and, despite the fact that few, if any people are listeing, I will divulge these lessons, stories, and maxims over the coming days and pages. For now, to the laundry mat.