(Un)inspired

Today, a parcel came in the mail -- my three new books. I had never ordered three new books by someone I had never heard of, never read before. Before a few days ago, that is. Instead of going to the store a few days ago, I had put in an order online. I had based my decision entirely on the online customer reviews, again something that I had never done before.

This morning, I heard the mailman trudge up the front walk, up the steps, and slip the mail through the mail-slot. The mail had been ragged and soaked from rain and melting snow these past few days, and it was no different today. As I stood there clutching the soppy envelopes and brochures behind the front door, I had an inkling that my parcel had arrived, that the mailman had wedged it between the screen-door and the front door. But I didn't check. Instead, I peeked out the window, followed the mailman with my eyes as he crossed the street.

When I finally went outside some hours later, to go out for lunch, I found the parcel with my three books. The novel has a green cover. I want to say lime green, but it isn't quite. It's more institution green, like the green you'd imagine hospital walls to be, at least in the movies. The poetry volume has a pink cover. That's straightforward enough, Peptobismol pink. The short story collection has a blue cover. It's a sky blue, but the pale version when the sun is high in the sky and you see the gold mixed in with the blue. Except that in the sky, the colour has depth, and on the cover of the book, there isn't any depth, just flat pale blue.

I wanted to bring my books to lunch, but I didn't. I didn't bring my cell phone either -- I forgot. It's just that kind of day. Before coming home, I stopped to buy a jug of milk, only to find, in my kitchen, that the jug had leaked. There was a trail of milk droplets from the car, up the front walkway, on the porch, in the living room, through the hall, all the way to the fridge. My cat was ecstatic. I stood there and contemplated what to do for the longest time. Finally, I took out the old milk jug from inside the fridge and dumped what was left in it into the sink. I'm sure I'm not the only one who hates drinking the last little bit of milk in a jug, and leaves it there for a week, before finally, nose scrunched and breath held, pouring it down the drain. Rinsed out the old milk jug and poured the new milk into it. Made mental note of the expiry date of the new milk in the old jug. Then decided it was best to write that on the old jug with a Sharpie.

Hunkered down to read the novel, the one with the green cover. I'm halfway done. It's a quick read, but I don't want it to end.

This post is inspired by the novel. I don't normally write posts that are so full of nothing. Or maybe I do. You tell me.

* The books that arrived today are all by Tao Lin: 1) Novel -- Eeeee Eee Eeee; 2) Poetry -- Cognitive-Behavioral Therapy; 3) Stories -- Bed