Syllabus #194

After Monday, I thought this week in Nashville couldn't possibly get any worse.  Then I spent Friday night into the wee hours of Saturday wearing a bicycle helmet, ready to dive into a closet, and wishing we had an interior room in this stupid house.  There's a reason people call tall skinnies 'vertical trailers'.

You love to see it.  Always a comfort when the insurance company says, "Hey, maybe you'll die!"

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Why?  I find this offensive even though it's none of my business.    

I don't have a lot to say about the shooting.  Whatever I say will not be as articulate as these two summations of our failings as a society and the failings of our leaders who do nothing to prevent something that other countries have demonstrated can, in fact, be largely prevented with right regulations in place.  I don't have a lot to say, but I want everyone to know that a strip of duct tape is standing between me an active shooter, should one ever rampage inside my school.  That's apparently the best we can do.  Duct tape.  

Tots and pears.  [Betsey Phillips, Nashville Scene]

Bill Lee is, indeed, a drag.  A drag and a drip.  [Margaret Renkl, New York Times]

I made a cake about it.  Actually, the cake wasn't for me and my feelings, it was for Andy's birthday.  His real birthday isn't until Tuesday, but we're having something of a moveable fest.  

In theory, that's a 4.  This is Forty.

Analog Reading:

It had a hefty Docket of Shit to Do this week.  My reading has suffered.  I did finish Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow by Gabrielle Zevin and it was excellent.  It was one of those books I could have read faster but I wanted to slow down and spend more time with the characters.  Their friendship was so real and so flawed.

I then started Colson Whitehead's first novel, The Intuitionist.  I want to love it, because I've loved every word Whitehead has written that I have laid eyes on, but it hasn't grabbed me yet.  Maybe I just need to spend time with it when I'm not already falling asleep.