We walked back across campus, as the cold changed from ``biting'' to ``smacking you with a sack full of pins'', and bunny_hugger noted how Ann Arbor locals weren't remarking about her chicken purse the way people in Manhattan did, which was the cue for someone to say how neat she thought the chicken purse was. Unfortunately by this time, too, many of the shops were closing up: we could look in the window of a place that sells adorable ceramic figurines, and even see the person inside shuffling around as he cleaned up, but not get in. Also alongside this alley was a coffee shop which still had the Christmas window painting --- reindeer having a comic-electric mishap with the lights --- still up. Painted windows are a big thing around there and good for them.
There's another record shop we visited, one where bunny_hugger got the Buggles' Adventures in Modern Recording and was surprised to see they didn't have The Age Of Plastic, the one every record store did. They still had the one, wrong, Buggles album. And she gave in and bought a couple Kinks albums, including Preservation Act II, partly out of the feeling that who else would buy them if she didn't? I again kept coming close to but not actually quite buying anything, despite temptation.
Just back across again took us to the Dawn Treader, used book store (and we noticed the former Borders Number Zero is being renovated, to some new purpose; presumably soon it'll show no sign of what it was), where one of the guys there talked about my beard and whether it's good for keeping the face warm (it is) and how he couldn't grow one. The cashier we got later followed up the conversation by noting she could use her cut hair to make him a beard, one not matching the color or style of his hair. I took a bit to figure what she was talking about, but when I did remember the conversation said that all he needed to do was wear a ridiculous fake beard with confidence and nobody would question it.
I tried to keep my buying in reasonable quantity, with mild success. I couldn't resist a couple, including one (Jody Scott's Passing For Human) whose back cover blurb makes it sound like a glorious 1970s fiasco. (Reviews online suggest it's rather better than that, if dated; this might be selection bias, but it isn't hard to find people delighting in utter messes of books even from a third of a century ago.) bunny_hugger meanwhile took some time to sit and read, unwisely, the first couple chapters of a book whose thesis was ``I'm so right I don't even have to compose a logical defense of my thesis'', which left her feeling a bit stabby.
Trivia: The medieval Catholic Church prohibited sex on Sundays, Wednesdays (regarded as the day Jewish leaders conspired to kill Christ), Fridays (for the crucifixion), Saturdays (the day of darkness between crucifixion and resurrection), all Advent, all Lent, forty days before and after Pentecost, on days before receiving communion, and days when the woman was lactating or menstruating. Source: Sunday: A History Of The First Day From Babylonia To The Super Bowl, Craig Harline.
Currently Reading: The Louisville Grays Scandal of 1877, William Cook.