I am content right, currently lounging on my bed writing and listening to records with a buoyantly purring puss at my feet I have had a productive and enjoyable last couple of days. The day before yesterday I went with my mom and a good friend to sell back many of my books from the past school year and some Mom needed to clear out as well. We went to one of those places that buys back your old books and media and allows you to either receive cash or store credit to buy more books and media. I sifted through their vinyl section and found a few gems among the rubble of the bad half of the seventies music scene. I was particularly proud of the copy of Rick Wakeman’s Journey to the Center of the Earth, a live recording of the second of two 1974 concerts at London’s Royal Festival Hall with the London Symphony Orchestra. My Dad and I have been talking about finding a copy for years (yes I know you can find them on Amazon and eBay but that takes all the fun of the thrill of the hunt, doesn’t it?) and when this one fell in my lap for four bucks, it was fate.
Post pre-loved bin diving, we were going to eat at this little dive of a biker bar that is one of the only places around here we’ve found that serves Smith’s oatmeal stout (a beer Mom and I have both added to our top ten lists), but, because our country is so idiotic when it comes to liquor laws, you had to be twenty-one to be served. Now the three of us are all over twenty-one, and normally that wouldn’t have been a problem, but our friend had somehow, the waitress not so politely pointed out, been walking around with an expired license for two years. I’m pretty sure, but don’t quote me on this, the license still was valid proof of her age and the expiration date was kind of irrelevant to the waitress’ purpose, but we had to leave anyway with our friend in a panic. Luckily, the old new license had just been mistakenly filed away with other household paperwork instead of placed in a wallet. Embarrassing? Yes. Worth the fodder for the three of us to joke about for many moons to come? Oh definitely.
Yesterday the three of us went out again. I still had vinyl on the brain (specifically the new Arctic Monkeys album), and I wanted to hit up my favorite record store in Nashvegas, Grimey’s. We spent a good hour or so there as my stack grew larger and larger. I think I seriously could happily live in a record store until the end of my days and at their end file it as a good life in retrospect. I only once had to physically remove myself from a section, the audiophile jazz one, and I was a good girl and bought mostly used ones, which I find more interesting anyway. Not too much damage done to the old wallet.
After that we ate at a lovely little Italian bistro where we dined on proper Neapolitan style pizza and gelato. It was absolute perfection incarnate. Successfully fortified, I decided I wanted to make the final push on my apartment furnishings, which thankfully are fewer than originally anticipated because I managed to find a place fully furnished already. It feels good to have mostly everything I’m going to need. I can’t imagine having to find furniture as well. Buying dishes, bedding, and the like has been daunting enough. I know that sounds pathetic, but I don’t do well with that sort of thing. Ah well, all I have to find now are hand towels, and I’ll be set.
That’s really all I have to say for now as we have dinner guests on their way. Tonight I hope to settle in and write-up about our entertaining weekend working a photography gig in East Tennessee last weekend. That should be much more interesting. I wrote this post just because I really needed to get something out or I would go mad, but I haven’t had the time to write a full post. Maybe things will calm down for a bit. I always say that, I know. We’ll see. Anyway, I hope you all have delicious, mischief-filled Friday nights.