I long to sail the path to the moon...

what flavor pocky are you?
[c] sugardew

How do I know I'm a bibliophile? I woke up this morning from the second part of a two-night dream. The first part, last night, was all about scrambling to win a contest (of the "how-well-do-you-know-your-classics" variety) in order to get a whole crate of old stuff. Tonight was about having won, and the dream was all about unpacking everything. It was all books and book-related materials: old pens, parchment, inkwells, and the like, precisely what has faded from my mind. But the crowning joy was a four-part folio containing four original hand-written scores from four 1920's musicals whose titles were so nonsensical as to be only plausible in a dream world. I dreamed about lifting each one out, carefully, with gloved fingers, and leafing through the scores, humming the tunes and exulting in the beauty of aged paper and ink. The smell, the feel, the sight... It's not normal to have a please-don't-wake-me dream about old musical scores, is it? Got up this morning, went to Iwona's, and showed her how to upload her files to the IUSM database. Now she won't lose them. Almost went home, but I'd had the foresight to throw my bag into the car, so I went to Curves and worked out. Went light today; I'm still sore from yesterday and all the strength training machines except abs really should be every other day. Now back home, thinking I'll take a shower and then finish cleaning the bathroom, as well as starting work on making the downstairs presentable for the youth on Friday. Movie this evening at seven with and anyone else who wants to come. Shall we do dinner first?