I do not believe in the end of blessings.

Today is the day for a haircut, and maybe the purchase of a new Bible, and a sweet-potato-and-black-bean quesadilla, and a trip to Goodwill if I'm feeling especially indulgent.

Yesterday I went to the movies too early, so I walked to the library and got some books on comics. I owed four dollars in late fees, but only from one day of lateness because it was two DVDs and they are two dollars per day late per DVD, so it wasn't as grave as I thought. The movie was beautiful, but I didn't quite get the ending, so maybe one day I'll read the book. Maybe not. Erin went with me and rode her bike home, and I pulled up behind her at a stoplight. I came home and ate homemade shells and cheese with breadcrumbs on top, then graded an impressive paper.

The day before that I went to the first meeting for Disciple Bible study, and the leader is the father of a friend from college, which was a surprise and made me feel even better about joining the study.

On Saturday, I spent the day in the upstairs of a coffee shop downtown reading and researching, and the evening at a reggae festival and then a terrible redneck bar about which my curiosity is now soundly sated.

On Friday, I found the herbal drink I've been searching for, Celestial Seasonings' Roastaroma, at the co-op. I was afraid they didn't make it any more.

In two days and a few hours I'll be on the road to Cooperstown, New York, for a wedding reception.

Two weeks after that is the public library book sale,
and then I'm reading at a reading,
and then it's Halloween and I'm going to Greensboro for the Avett Brothers,
and then it's Writers' Week,
and then it's Thanksgiving and Christmas,
and then AWP Chicago with Art Spiegelman,
and then it's almost time to start dreaming about summer and maybe a move downtown.

So who cares if I'm better at having ideas than implementing them? Who cares if I don't have a boyfriend or a date, and if one of my classes is not well, and I'm probably not going to enter that one great writing contest? Everything is the picture of perfection, and the way things are is a perfect way for them to be. I don't mean I don't want to change. I don't mean there's no better way; in fact it's the kind of perfect that can only get better. I just mean this is perfect and for once I know it.