I hit Walmart hard last night. One of the things I bought was a set of earphones to try out at work. Now I can listen to Rock.com while the woman who works near me is at work, instead of waiting for the few moments when she is not in. So far this morning I have been cataloging like a mad fool to music no one else can hear. Best to type to so far: She was (Talking Heads). Worst to type to: Night swimming (REM) Most interesting to type to: Jimi Hendrix. I let out a little yelp when Jimi sang PURPLE HAZE! in my right ear as the guitar twanged in my left. Anyway, it's great distraction from the sound of my fingers on the keyboard, which, I've determined, just make me focus on how fast I am or am not typing, and how many mistakes I make, and how many times I tab to get to the right MARC field.

What else I bought at Walmart: 2 pairs of "lounging" pants with elastic waists, 2 camisoles (since the dog has chewed the straps on ALL the camisoles I own, apparently--she loves narrow strappy-type things), 1 pair of shorts, a bottle of carpet cleaner special for dog smell and stains, 2 huge bags of potting soil (Ken says "You BUY dirt? you pay money for dirt? you've got acres and acres of dirt!" Yes, but this is special dirt), weed killer for my blackberry bushes and wild oregano (bad, bad girl, toxic and non-organic), a new terra cotta pot for only $5 for my coleus garden-in-a-pot which will be striking and wonderfully colorful and a few other things. The problem with me is that, when I have a few extra dollars, as I do now, I spend it without counting it. I've spent about $200 in the past few days, on things I need (I use the term "need" loosely--liquor is among my purchases), not luxuries. I mean, I NEED dirt to put in my pots, right?

I seem to be missing a guppy. There were only 3 this morning. Where's Mr. Dark Blue? I looked and looked in the tank and cannot find him. Honestly, there is just no place for him to swim off to. Tonight I will conduct a more comprehensive search and will change their water. It's getting a little dirty, slightly brown. Did they eat him? They couldn't have eaten his fins and tail and bones. WHERE DID HE GO? Jump out of the tank? Not.

Back to Willsboro's collection of old and irrelevant New York stuff. Then I have to speak to the collected correctional facility librarians about how poorly they do their jobs. I may as well be speaking to a pile of dirt. Free dirt, not boughten dirt.