I would love to say that I avoided all retail on Black Friday, but the hairy personages do tend to insist upon being fed, so I had to make a quick grocery run. Other than that, though... #occupyhouse. I spent the day working on papers and drinking coffee. Nothing like taking a cold and dispassionate look at the day planner to spark a good, solid panic about those end-of-semester deadlines. Just under two weeks to my econ final, yikes! (Despite the fact that I have now been well and soundly educated by not one but two acolytes of Milton Friedman, I still believe in commie ideas like the minimum wage.)
Outside of my little cocoon, the block is starting to light up. I think one of the reasons I feel so at home in my neighborhood is that it's cobbled together from a couple of identities. Bloomfield or Lawrenceville? Old-school, blue collar 'Burgh or [whatever the hell it is we're calling yuppies these days]? Yes! But right now, the Bloomfield wins, hands down. Strings of colored bulbs and thick ropes of tinselly garland hang from stoop railings. Hip? Not even a little bit, but why front? It's Christmas. We can pretend to be upwardly mobile again some time next year.
APROPOS OF NOTHING: You live in a world in which Jon Hamm and Garry Marshall have been in a freestyle rap battle. No, really. 47:45.