“Books are the quietest and most constant of friends; they are the most accessible and wisest of counselors, and the most patient of teachers.”

This is the Trinity College Library in Dublin. What I wouldn't GIVE to wile away three or four days in this library!

Today was eventful. Well, it started with me only getting about 4 hours of sleep last night, which has consequently left me both exceedingly sleepy and looking quite like hell (or a banshee. Perhaps a banshee out of hell). I was up at 7 this morning for a garage sale. It was supposed to be a community garage sale, where all the houses in your neighborhood put out stuff. Ended up just being ours and two others. Community Garage FAIL.

My neighbor came over to sell stuff at our sale, which was fine, only it then required me being neighborly and social at 7 in the morning with minimal sleep. Needless to say it lasted all about 30 minutes before I had to bury myself in an Anne Perry novel. Doubtlessly everyone thinks I'm that neighborhood "weird girl," the one who doesn't talk that much and reads all the time and doesn't date and hangs out with her mom. I don't much care. I've heard conversation comes easier as you get older. I'm sure I'll be fine. Besides, it's better to be someone in the neighborhood than no one.

Oh and get this. My neighbor made $80. I made $10. I think this is God telling me to stop being lazy and get a job. I just don't like working. No, not true. I enjoy working. I feel much more useful when I work. The problem with work lies in the stress that inevitably comes home with me from it. That and it seems like every time I get a job something happens that prevents me from being able or willing to work, thus making me look like a slacker and resulting in my quitting. I'm not a quitter. I've just got better things to do. Like finding a wealthy husband. Although "Become Gold-Digging Bimbo, Get Sugar-Daddy" is hardly a reliable (or desirable) life strategy. Curses.

{Unrelated and breaking the flow of discourse: I really need to clean my rooms. They are heinous. Even I feel like they're too messy. I'd post pics, but honestly, I'm embarrassed. And I would go do that after posting this except for...}

So afterwards, I went over to the UCF library to return that heap of Dickens and Victorian children books. Note: if you are a child or a woman (or, like me, can pass for both), do not time travel to Victorian London. You will either be destitute, a prostitute, tubercular or all of the above. Also, Chimney Sweeps were nothing like Bert in Mary Poppins. But we will pretend, for ignorance-is-bliss's sake, that they were.

Anyway, I took all those back and cleared out the Sherlock Holmes section. So I apologize if you or anyone you know actually needs these books for, y'know, SCHOLARLY reasons. If so, let me know and I'll give them back. Otherwise, SO LONG, WORLD. I'LL SEE YOU WHEN I EMERGE A HOLMESIAN EXPERT.

Also, thanks, UCF, for deciding to rearrange the entire library just after I'd memorized the call numbers for all the useful sections. You apparently have no idea how difficult it is for me to remember anything and have no appreciation whatsoever for the corner of my "brain attic" which I so lovingly devoted to you. Bastards.