Today, after I typed a message to Kathy that said something like, "whine whine whine i was planning on going to this rare books and manuscripts library after work, but what am i going to do there by myself? wander?", it occurred to me that I was being pretty pathetic. Of course I sent it anyway because I'm used to her being privy to my every fleeting emotion. But then I went. I got lost, got a map, got lost again, realized I was holding the map upside down, and found it.
Inside there were many interesting things, such as a puzzle exhibit, where I learned of this thing called a Justice Cup, which was this hilarious joke easterners played on the greedy. It's a normal cup if it's filled up to one-quarter of an inch to its brim, but if you fill it any more, it all drains out this secret passageway into the bottom. Also, there was a hank of Sylvia Plath's hair. It said it was a lock, but this sucker was a hank. It looked like Ted put her hair in a ponytail and then cut it off. There was a handwritten manuscript of "Blackberrying," too. And a typewritten manuscript of "Goldfinger" with handwritten edits. By Ian Fleming, not Sylvia Plath. It was all very pretty.