My American Heritage Dictionary is getting old. It has torn pages and smudges and dog-eared corners and mold growing in the creases.
In other words, it looks, feels, and smells like the much-loved 14-year-old tome that it is.
So anyway, I was looking up "Rubicon" this morning. As I flipped through the pages, I commented to Dan, "You know something? I could use a new ... D-I-C-T-I-O-N-A-R-Y."
I spelled it out because I didn't want the book to hear that I was thinking about replacing it with a newer, perkier version. Didn't want to hurt its feelings.
OK, so I have a bad habit of anthropomorphizing things.
Then, with acute horror, I realized this: if any inanimate object in the room had any chance at all of actually understanding what I'd "spelled out," it was ... the dictionary.
So a little while later, I started to look up a word that started with an "a." When I opened the dictionary to the "a" section, the first word I saw was "apologize."
Know what else is weird? There's a big thread on the usefulness of grad school on another blog I read. And, in a conversation this morning, the girl I was talking to brought up the subject of Oxford. Then said that she was reading The Great Divorce by C.S. Lewis.
Merge, merge, merge, merge, merge.
(You have to read some of my previous posts to see what I mean about the merging going on ... it's all about C.S. Lewis, Oxford, and grad school.)