I did a dumb thing today. Stupid pills for breakfast, as EN puts it. I finally went out and bought my 2002 appointment diary refill. For model number 70-008 and everything. It was $9.95, which seemed steep to me.
Well, let's back up a second, here. I really wanted something ... you know, fancy. Illustrations. Cute pearls of wisdom on every page. Great Art themed. Or Classic Lesbian Pulp. Or Harpsichords of the World. Something. But then I realized, boringly, practically, with every shred of my better and more imaginative self carefully repressed, that I would have to re-copy my whole address book if I did that. And so on, every year ad infinitum. This prospect was too daunting to me, so I bit the bullet of expensive boredom and bought the damn refill.
In the T station, after the purchase, still high on the fumes of retail therapy, I tore open the refill wrapping and prepared to put it into my appointment book.
Uh .... ?
Apparently the 70-008P, which is the appointment diary I own, is wired into the cover. No refills, sorry -- please play again. So there I was with an overflowing address book, a useless wad of dated paper (perhaps my household can use it as anitergium), and last year's info. And a small ball of crinkly plastic wrapping, sitting there on the tiled counter, mocking me.
I do the same thing with CDs. Almost the minute I buy something, I feel compelled to undo the shrinkwrap and let it breathe. Even when I buy something for somebody else, I yearn to make sure everything's in there, the colors lined up nicely on the album insert, the CD is aligned top-side-up in its little jewelled cradle.
The chic girl at the chic card store recommended buying a Fine Art one at the MFA, now that they're on sale. So I guess I make an Art Pilgrimage tomorrow. And after that, SLB and I are going to buy and construct bookshelves. Then I'll turn into a pumpkin and be accepted by the gods as a peer.
ShW had the best idea: make a little binding for my present address book and the new calendar insert. If I were the least bit craftier with heavy, sailory cloths, or believed in using leather products, I could do so quite easily. But I'm not sure what I have at my disposal that would last a full year without falling to smithereens and would also look as nice as shiny black faux-leatherette. Perhaps the cut-out bins at the local bondage shop can help.
Musick such as charmeth sheep: Weelkes, Madrigals and Devotional Songs. The Consort of Musicke.
What I spent today doing: Being late for work, working, buying the wrong thing, going home, playing JCF Fischer, eating soup, cleaning, packing, finding FF's celery (a keepsake--an actual length of celery-top from a diner in Middletown, CT--from when I lost my virginity), finding piles of unopened bills and bank-statements from the Hiding Under A Rock year, watching the Invisible Buffy Episode, Eating fresh Ghirardelli brownies, typing this, and, soon, sleeping.