I finished the rest of my pumpkin pie. I was so sad when I finished the last piece. :( It made me want to run out and get ingredients for a new pie. That pie was my little child! It was my creation. And if I can feel that way about a pie! Imagine me with a child or a dog?
I was futzing with my Jane Eyre mp3s all day when I realized I'd never copied disc six! How will I ever know what happens? I've read the book at least three times in my life. I'm sure I'd be able to figure it out. I know more than two times. I wonder if it's been as much as four or five? How many times have I read the Fountainhead? I don't know. Once in college. Once in New York City. I think each time I read it, it makes more and more sense. I just didn't have the knowledge or context to process it before. Like the first time I picked up Gone with the Wind in the sixth grade. It bored the crap out of me because I had no idea what any of them were talking about!