The Quest for Kate K.

I just finished writing a paper on Christa Wolf's The Quest for Christa T. and I feel a deep sense of pleasure over the outcome. Nursing my second cup of aromatic, double spice chai, I am reveling in the hiss of the steam heat running through my pipes, keeping me warm.

After attending a gospel/jazz benefit that was put on my by church on Friday night, I came home and watched "Cold Mountain" all the way through. On Saturday I did a double header: I knocked out both "Whale Rider" and "The Postman Always Rings Twice."
Before going to Sarah's place, I ordered the christmas tree I've had my eye on for a few weeks now.

Before coming back to my little abode early this afternoon, I grocery shopped. I got the pork loin around which I will build my Thanksgiving meal, along with some things to see me through this week.

Been thinking on my proclivity toward being alone a lot. Some of it's preference, but some of it is fear. I know you already knew this, Gentle Reader.