Piccolo Spoletto, Day 6
Todd is a god.
In Todd we trust.
Todd brought with him a big jug of laundry dtergeant for the company to use. Thus, I did not have to make my way down to the now mythical, Holy Grail-type market in order to do my laundry, which I sorely needed to do. And before you ask, no I was out of shirts, not underwear. And before you ask again, yes, I have more than one black shirt. I multiple black shirts, thank you very much. Todd says that he has the detergeant because his wonderful wife, Joan (head of the Hollins College Library) made him bring it, which just goes to show you, behind every great man ... is a librarian.
Todd and I went out this morning to catch some breakfast and hit some bookstores. I was very grateful for the one-on-one Todd time, something I don't get much of anymore. With a wave of his hand he cleared up a writing quandry I had. Todd rocks.
The evil Ukranians who had reserved the kitchen on our hall are gone, so we now have access to trash cans and kitchen sinks right on our hall. This place is now like a palace. So right now, I'm doing laundry, throwing out trash, washing dishes, and debating about whether or not I'm going to catch any shows this evening.
I've just learned that there are two festivals going on here, The Spoletto Festival, which is high class, hoity-toit and The Piccolo Spoletto Festival, a fringe festival of smaller, quirkier works (except for the puzzling inclusion of a production of A Chorus Line). That's the one we're connected with. Savion Glover and Mabou Mines came down for the Spoletto Festival and left before we even came. In fact, most of the Spoletto events are over. Now the town belongs to the small fries.
Last night, a relative dead night in terms of bars here, I had a decent margarita. This fact is more remarkable than one might think. One thing about South Carolina is that in terms of alcohol, it is even more annoying than Pennsylavania. You know those min-bottles of booze you get on airplanes and buy for stocking stuffers? Well, the law in South Carolina is that you can only pour drinks from those bottles. So if you order ... well, any mixed drink, instead of getting a shot or a couple of fingers of whatever booze is required, they will pour you a mini-bottle's worth. According to Todd, this practice is because relatives of Strom Thurman own a mini-bottle distribution company. Now that he is dead, the law will be changed on Jan. 1 of next year. How pathetic is that? So not only are the mixed drinks all overpriced, but they are under-boozed at that. There's a Guadalajara margarita waiting for me.
Time to move things to the dryer.
In Todd we trust.
Todd brought with him a big jug of laundry dtergeant for the company to use. Thus, I did not have to make my way down to the now mythical, Holy Grail-type market in order to do my laundry, which I sorely needed to do. And before you ask, no I was out of shirts, not underwear. And before you ask again, yes, I have more than one black shirt. I multiple black shirts, thank you very much. Todd says that he has the detergeant because his wonderful wife, Joan (head of the Hollins College Library) made him bring it, which just goes to show you, behind every great man ... is a librarian.
Todd and I went out this morning to catch some breakfast and hit some bookstores. I was very grateful for the one-on-one Todd time, something I don't get much of anymore. With a wave of his hand he cleared up a writing quandry I had. Todd rocks.
The evil Ukranians who had reserved the kitchen on our hall are gone, so we now have access to trash cans and kitchen sinks right on our hall. This place is now like a palace. So right now, I'm doing laundry, throwing out trash, washing dishes, and debating about whether or not I'm going to catch any shows this evening.
I've just learned that there are two festivals going on here, The Spoletto Festival, which is high class, hoity-toit and The Piccolo Spoletto Festival, a fringe festival of smaller, quirkier works (except for the puzzling inclusion of a production of A Chorus Line). That's the one we're connected with. Savion Glover and Mabou Mines came down for the Spoletto Festival and left before we even came. In fact, most of the Spoletto events are over. Now the town belongs to the small fries.
Last night, a relative dead night in terms of bars here, I had a decent margarita. This fact is more remarkable than one might think. One thing about South Carolina is that in terms of alcohol, it is even more annoying than Pennsylavania. You know those min-bottles of booze you get on airplanes and buy for stocking stuffers? Well, the law in South Carolina is that you can only pour drinks from those bottles. So if you order ... well, any mixed drink, instead of getting a shot or a couple of fingers of whatever booze is required, they will pour you a mini-bottle's worth. According to Todd, this practice is because relatives of Strom Thurman own a mini-bottle distribution company. Now that he is dead, the law will be changed on Jan. 1 of next year. How pathetic is that? So not only are the mixed drinks all overpriced, but they are under-boozed at that. There's a Guadalajara margarita waiting for me.
Time to move things to the dryer.
posted by - caj at 2:26 PM
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