It's about to be Friday the 13th. Also, there will be a full moon. The two coincide only about once every twenty years, but I don't think it signifies anything. How often the two coincide on a date that reads the same backwards and forwards (9.13.19) I don't know. I'm still not expecting anything out of the ordinary to happen. But then what the hell do I know? It might turn out to be the day the Wiccans get raptured and I'm left behind with all the terribly surprised Christians. At my age there is very little that would astonish me.
One thing that probably won't happen is me going to the bus-accessible store. It's going to be hot, I have been waking up rather late, and I suspect I still won't be feeling very well. There is some chance that I'll venture out to the Goodwill store come evening, though, since I don't like to leave the books unexamined for too long. I always worry that I'll miss something I really want. Longing is a terrible thing. It ought never to have been invented.