quislibet | Pastries; angst; credit cards; dangerous classicists

This is a day of manifold vexations which would be vexatious even to relate in any detail; the morning began with going out of my way for pastry which turned out to be mediocre, and from this ill omen things have since progressed to the point of existential angst -- although, I hasten to add, it is not accurate to say that the existential angst was in fact *caused* by the mediocre pastry.

On the plus side, last night I realized I had lost my credit card. This turns out, in the end, to be all right, because I checked my account online, found no untoward activity, and realized that the last place I used it was a local gaming store two weeks ago. I called there, and, after a long pause while the woman working there apparently dug through a mighty stack of abandoned credit cards, learned that my card was there, which I then went and recovered.

I started rereading Donna Tartt's The Secret History today, as I thought it would make a fitting followup to Elizabeth Hand's Waking the Moon; if I can find a copy, I think the modern retelling of Tam Lin by Jane Yolen must be next. (If you're unfamiliar with the books, they all involve perfectly normal young people going off to college, meeting larger-than-life quirky people whom they become obsessed with, and getting sucked into occult conspiracies that involve classicists.)