(no subject)

So, good if unproductive weekend. (Who wants to be productive when it's a beautiful Indian summer out?) Went to the party Friday night, drank Jagermeister against my better judgement. Ow. Woke up early-ish Saturday and lay in bed for a while reading and wishing my headache would go away. E called and we went to the Mosaiculture, which was packed but fun. Ate inferior wings in a courtyard pub and went home.

Sunday was so gorgeous and so hot I couldn't bear to stay indoors so my apartment is still an unholy mess -- I went and lay in the park and read the paper instead. Then I walked home and sat in the back reading Perdido Street Station and that was when it finally grabbed me and didn't let go until I'd finished it (around 10:30 p.m.). It's truly excellent -- one substandard passage in the middle. I'll write more later maybe.

Other books read over the weekend:
The Perilous Gard, which I found at a lawn sale last weekend -- loved it.
The Witch of Blackbird Pond, which ditto -- OK, not stellar, at least by comparison with the other.

I need to read some grown-up books. (Love the children's books but feeling in need of a change.) The library wouldn't let me take out To the Lighthouse last week because it didn't have a barcode yet. Hmph. Anyone have any grown-up book recs?

I suppose I could tackle some of the giant pile at the foot of my bed, come to think of it.

"Like turtles stampeding through peanut butter. Every last one of them."

-- Sara's assessment of a certain client's speed and decisiveness.

In other news, I've been pushing this at everybody I know, so it's your turn. I just love the notion of a travelling strike force of weed-eating goats.