Where I'm at

[This was supposed to get blogged last week, but didn't.]
At work we have tons of old National Geographics. No one knows what to do with them, so they have just sat around random places in our offices, mostly being used to cover heat vents that only blow cold air.
The other night I dreamt that I was standing outside Half Price Books, looking longingly in the window. As I stood there, the philology-loving librarian walked by, accidentally brushing my leg as he also went to the window to look in longingly. I thought, 'Oh, it's him! This could lead to something. Except not, because I will never get to see him ever again because no one ever gets to do anything ever again for all time.' And then it switched to him working at HPB, and reaching out the door to give me the bag of books I had bought. Apparently they were closing for good, and they had a deal where paperbacks were $1 a piece, but you took whatever they gave you. Thinking this sounded kind of fun, I spent $8 to get 8 books. When I got back to my car, I opened the bag, and they had given me 6 darn old copies of National Geographic and two books (one a Series of Unfortunate Events spin-off, the other I don't know because I was so mad about the blasted National Geographics). Magazines are not books! I totally got ripped off. But in fairness, I had decided to take the risk of not knowing what I was buying.
And that was the whole of it. Pretty sure it takes nothing to figure out what this means. I miss the library, the bookstore, and work. Sounds about right.