thank heavens for the limitations of telephones.

yesterday was characterised by a number of things going wrong and annoying, feeling shitty, and not really eating properly so having fun with dehydration and blood sugar weirdnesss (compounding the feeling shitty bit, making me cranky at things, etc, etc.)

and then the nice man from the bookshop calls and tells me that my copy of Anansi Boys has arrived and is under the counter.

and i want to cry and dance like an 80s choreographer, my voice goes up a register and i thank him very very much and tell him how very fantastic he is. the thought of singing in praise of all books, bookshop owners and so forth does cross my mind.

and i realise that if someone had come to my door or stopped me on the street and told me that, i probably would have kissed him. it's also possible that i would have made polite enquiries about being mother to his children, a mighty dynasty of bookshop people with the instinct to call people with good news when they need it. (i think it's always nice to ask about this kind of thing, no matter how excited you are. some people would simply prefer fish.)

but he used the phone, a medium not conducive (well, for me anyway) to spontaneous snogging of virtual stranger or for any act of conception. it's less scary and more hygenic that way.