I've next to nothing to say this morning...it's quiet and I'm soaking in the peace of it. Sweet Wife has returned to work. This is the first time in about twelve days I've been alone. The day nurse arrives later this morning to change my bandages, poke and prod, and repack.
She still has a hard time understanding the shelves of books. She asked me why certain volumes were dressed in archival plastic. I explained the books in question are first editions. Blank stare. So I changed direction and told her they were special and the plastic gave the books protection.
"Protection from what? They're just books."
"The elements, people's dirty hands, dust."
Blink, blink. Cow eyes.
"Are 'da expensive?"
I pointed towards one, said, "That book only had a first printing of two thousand copies. Half went to libraries. The others were sold from the trunk of the author's vehicle. Half of those were destroyed by misuse. I only know of two on the market. I own one. That book is worth two grand."
"Sweet Jesus Christ Almighty, a book be worth 'dat much money?"
"Yes." I said. She shakes her head and mumbled, "I done heard it all now."
I'm several chapters behind on The Union Creek Journal, and with all this silence, I'll have a chance to jump back into the adventure. You can find the story, here.
If conditions warrant, I might just sneak outside and pop some squirrels from my garage. My trigger finger is itchy.
Later, it's time for another cup of coffee. Take care, my friends.