Yesterday evening I was on the front steps enjoying a smoke when I noticed that my landlord had dumped more books onto the sidewalk for browsers to take. He's been cleaning out the basement because of the earthquake retrofit, and there was stuff in there from him, his wife, his parents in law, kinfolks, and several unknown others, going back thirty or forty years.
Including political science, French grammar, and sci-fi.
Also socialism, forks, and coffee cups.
But mostly books.
I am now the pleased owner of Websters Universal Unabridged Dictionary, and the Hintoi Honyu Chidin (現代漢語詞典 "Modern Chinese Dictionary").
Because my apartment mate is convinced that we don't need anymore stuff, they are hiding under my bed. Next to several other volumes.
She wasn't home yet when I snagged them.
Nobody's touched the coffee cups. They look tacky. Besides, if you want cups from the sidewalk, you are strange. But the pile of books is worth it.
A ripe pile for investigating, which changes on a daily basis.
Stuff.
Afterthought: When my apartment mate came home, she described someone she had seen as "looking too cracker to be a zombie."
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