Friday was another gorgeous day, and it was the first day of the second part of Pokemon Go's Halloween event, so when I wasn't sorting books in the basement, I was out catching Pumpkaboos and Phantumps. I discovered some treasures -- I'd remembered meeting Allen Ginsberg in college, but completely forgot that I got him to autograph copies of Iron Horse and White Shroud -- and I discovered some ridiculous things like a biography of Ayn Rand stuck behind biographies of much better writers. When Paul finished work, we went to walk along the canal, where the frogs don't know that it's October:
We went from seeing the river to seeing my parents for dinner (fried chicken for them, fried tofu for me) and lamented the terrible state of the baseball postseason, which I was too tired last night to be coherent about (Atlanta, Astros, I hate them both) and which we came home to watch tonight; our original intention was Dune, but that will still be there tomorrow, and we had a feeling this would be the last game the Red Sox played this season, which turned out to be true. Now we're watching the first Graham Norton of the new season, with Jodie Whittaker fangirling the Coldplay/BTS collaboration and Dame Eileen Atkins looking mystified!
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