We finally got some sun, today. Temperatures right around fifty. I needed some sunlight, and I went out for a while. Out is good. Out is out. It wasn’t all that well planned, but a long drive with some sunlight, and nature-y goodness. I didn’t wind up in Kansas. Tomorrow, I’m taking a hike, so exercise and sun. It’s practically summer already.

The birds think it is. They’re heading north again.

I’m still taking a winter coat, just in case. The weather can be a little unpredictable, here.

If we check the library calendar, there are no actual events scheduled, which means I would get real-life workable silence, as opposed to children arguing over who gets to sit in the bath tub, or any other form of people, so I might go there, too. I can settle into the non-circulating collection, and take a look at all the books they have, but won’t let me take out. (Writers’ Market, and an assortment of other writing books cannot leave the library. I don’t know why. I don’t know if anyone else has ever touched them.  I’ll take a notebook. Or several.)

I go back and forth on Writers’ Market-type books. On the one hand, it really isn’t something I’m likely to read over and over. On the other hand, if I don’t buy a copy, I wind up having to sit in the  library and take notes for what always seems like a really long time.

(When I do buy a copy, there’s a whole post-it note to index card process. This is more ritual than requirement, I think.)

(When I don’t buy a copy, I feel as though I may literally be the only one using the library’s copy, and that they’re only making it non-circulating out of spite.)

(Things have been going downhill ever since the REAL librarian retired.)

Come to think of it, I might leave a note with contact information in the Writers’ Market books. That might be a way of scaring up a writers’ group.

Or confirming that I’m the only person using the book.