Sleep is good
I gave a proof by demonstration this morning of the following equation:
NyQuil + earplugs + Jed - loud motorcycle = happy rested Jed.
But the corollary to that equation is that Jed may sleep too late to write a morning journal entry.
One might think that eight journal entries in the past two days would be sufficient to satisfy the demands of one's public, but one would be (as Zed might put it) wrong Wrong WRONG; one would discover that the appetite of one's public for journal entries is voracious—nay, insatiable—and that one's only hope of meeting said demand is to chain oneself to one's desk day and night and type type type madly away.
Onward:
Been finally reading The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay, which Susan was kind enough to loan me quite a while ago. Enjoying it so far, though only about a tenth of the way through it. One tiny nitpick: at least twice in three pages, Chabon mentions that the temperature of the River Moldau is 22° Celsius, and implies that this is very cold indeed. Since 22° Celsius is roughly 70° Fahrenheit, I suspect that "Celsius" was not the word he intended to use.
But okay, yes, that's a nitpick/typo, not worth making a fuss over. Instead I'll quote my favorite line so far, though it may work less well out of context. The two young protagonists have just sat down to a nigh-inedible breakfast of quasi-toast and quasi-eggs cooked by Sammy's mother:
Sammy performed the rapid series of operations—which combined elements of the folding of wet laundry, the shoveling of damp ashes, and the swallowing of a secret map on the point of capture by enemy troops—that passed, in his mother's kitchen, for eating.
Unrelatedly, I have a whole passel of links to post at some point. But not right now.
