A quick trip to Green Apple yesterday en route to my new doctor (glory be! now that I’ve finally, at long last, abandoned Kaiser as my HMO, which, despite all those television ads so seductively narrated by Allison Janney, is absolutely incompetent, I have discovered that it is actually possible to call one’s physician’s office and speak with someone in the office, rather than being redirected to a secretary in Sacramento, and, furthermore, it is also possible to get an appointment with one’s own physician, and to do all of this without having to recite your phone number, social security, address, allergies, medications, etc. to a long series of bored secretaries on the phone) yielded some expected and unexpected goodies:

Seven Nights, by Jorse Luis Borges
The Complete Works of Jane Bowles (I read this in its entirety while in Bowling Green, but don’t own a lick of her work and am interested in revisiting it)
Other Electricities, by Ander Monson
The Reindeer People, by Piers Vitebsky
A Special Providence, by Richard Yates

…and some used copies of books for the Craft of Fiction course I’ll be teaching at St. Mary’s this semester, because I need some raggedy old copies that I can mark up at length without being plagued by guilt. Oh, to read again! 13 months into the existence of Sir Oscar, I have finally gotten back into reading. How I missed it.