I think that, at least for today, the dark alley question posed a couple posts ago has been solved.
The Booker Prize was announced.
Although the other alley cats have numerous awards among them, this one is the most recent. The equivalent to celebrity weight-training, if you will.
Tonight I am going to sit at the French table in the dining hall with the Downstairs Chatterer. We'll see if the overwhelming pressure to keep up a conversation over dinner is doubled when carried on in a foreign language. Methinks it will be.
Volleyball playoffs start up this Sunday. I was not aware of their existence before, but I'm excited to see if we can improve on our zero game winning streak and of course provide more commentary on the relative gentlemanliness of the eating clubs. Also, on Saturday we're carving pumpkins. Seriously, I am more excited about this than I have been excited about most things this year. After all, as I told my mother solemnly one autumn growing up, "Halloween is my favorite season."
I've been working on The Play in my favorite study spot for the past hour and a half. It's been satisfying, especially since I have no other work to do at the moment. I anticipated a busy week, but managed to get everything done last night and before. Maybe tonight I'll watch The West Wing. I've noticed my banter tank is running low. Time for a refueling.