Which reminds me, now that we have a DVD player that will play them, I should get the Ranma discs out of the basement and start indoctrinating the children. Nothing like gender/species changing martial artists.
When I finished clearing off the bookshelf yesterday (the one in the picture), I was really excited, because it meant I had four open shelves, enough to transfer the contents of the bookshelf in the interstitial space in the master suite to the 3rd floor, thus leaving me with the tricky problem of what to do with that book case. It's a nice book case, but I want the floor where it and the (also nice) cedar trunk next to it currently live for my hypothetical future desk. Which I would like not to be hypothetical anymore.
For some reason, shuffling books around (and out the door, for at least some of them) got me thinking about Carlin's routine about stuff again, a reminder that was reinforced by reading Leigh Gallagher's _The End of the Suburbs_ (which is excellent, review to follow shortly), and checking out LifeEdited (which is considerably less excellent, altho I'm happy to note that Murphy beds are enjoying a renaissance, and those coffee tables that turn into dining tables are pretty cool, too).
Carlin's routine, Gallagher and LifeEdited all have a tendency to make me think about the foolishness of having so much space to house so much stuff, especially when I'm busy shuffling some of the stuff around to make space for still more stuff, or, at any rate, different stuff.
Fortunately, Gallagher has a great quote from Duany that reminded me why I'm doing this (I know, you wouldn't really expect it from him, right?): "The private realm is objectively fantastic." And, much like having purple in my hair, it really is. It's kind of a pain having to constantly be moving stuff along and getting more and taking care of it and rearranging it and blah, blah, bleeping blah, but that's just doing all the stuff that we enjoy the results of when we go to a really nice hotel.
As for the hair, T. wants the "light brown" back. The van driver was operating under the assumption that my previous appearance was "natural" -- this is funny, because it was quite red underneath, with brown, red and blond on top. Despite the assumption that the previous choices were "natural", she complimented me on the purple, and said, "Who says that's just for teenagers?" B. liked the color when she saw it, but mostly saw it was a darker brown -- the purple doesn't show up in low, internal light. She suggested that tomorrow morning I get a picture of the purple hair in front of the front door (which is now purple as well) -- which is a great idea, since that's an eastern exposure.