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The maximum amount of congratulations are apparently due Jeff and Sandi. I am so happy for them. Homeownership is the American Dream.

It is also the American Nightmare. Welcome to it. Ha ha ha! Ha ha ha ha ha! Ha ha ha ha!

Forward me your address, guys; I need to send you something.

Saturday morning Mrs. Hill and I awoke before dawn and sleepily drove ourselves downtown to stand in line for the fall Friends of the Alachua County Library book sale. Twice a year the FOL hold this sale in their big warehouse on Main Street to raise money for the public library and get rid of the thousands of donated books. It’s such a big deal that people come from far and wide, especially collectors and dealers who intend to resell what they buy. It has been over a year since I braved the FOL sale, since other commitments prevented me from attending. But this year the sale fell on a Saturday after payday, and so it was that we were in line by seven o’clock in the morning.

Our goal was to be in front of the guys who grab all the CDs regardless of title or artist, solely to resell elsewhere. That turned out not to be an issue this time, however, since these fellows failed to materialize at all, and, in any case, there were no legitimate classical music CDs save one EMI disc of Sir John Barbirolli conducting the Mahler Symphony No. 9. I purchased it.

I also purchased several art books, including one of the Uffizi Gallery, which Miriam and I toured in 2001 in Florence. I also got something I had been wanting for a long time, a book of Klimt. One of the music-related books I got is very interesting: a dictionary of musical themes, in which countless pieces of classical music are broken down into their various motifs, written in notation. That will be very helpful. We also got scads more of the great travel guides published by DK. They are generally over $20 new, but they are all $5 or less at the FOL sale, which still makes them among the more expensive titles there. Most hardcover books are priced below $2.50.

Miriam had her eye on several paintings in the poster and print tent, all of which, it turns out, were painted by the same fellow. Everyone that passed the tent before the sale opened remarked about them, particularly one featuring a devil and two goats, and another with a beehive. It seemed certain that these would be the first to go, especially when there was one man who was really talking them up to his friends and family. But what baby wants, baby gets, and, indeed, Miriam walked out with those four pictures, which now await suitable wall space to be hung.

The check-out line had grown astonishingly long by ten o’clock, and my arms were near broken from carrying such a heavy box of books. But we made it out of there with our booty, and I went off to work.