This is your life

Thank you to everyone who left supportive and encouraging comments yesterday about my last day at work. Thanks to people who called. Thanks to people who thought about me even if you didn't say anything, because that positive energy counts too. And a special thank-you to the writer of a handwritten letter that I read several times last night and once this morning and I will be carrying with me to Los Angeles when I leave tomorrow.

Tomorrow! I have much to do today to prepare, starting with a trip to the store for milk and a roll of quarters, then some laundry and packing and organizing my paperwork and figuring out what books I need to bring and what I need to read before Friday, then downtown for therapy and the bank and the library and drinks/dinner with Miss Rook at 5 o'clock. Then back home for a last few quiet hours with Lowenstein before I leave town.

My schedule seems extremely appropriate given that today is Bloomsday. And not just any Bloomsday, but the centenary Bloomsday. Perhaps I'll carry my copy of Ulysses around with me to read on the train. Um, yeah. If my brain is so fried I can't handle an issue of the New Yorker, I doubt today will be the day I work on crossing another item off of my lifetime to-do list, namely reading Joyce's tome. But it might be fun to pretend.