Minutae

I'm trying to think of how to describe the very specific kind of joy that comes from putting on a pair of pants you haven't worn in months and finding some mysterious shape in the pocket. It's a combination of the thrill that you could find something that you've been missing for so long that you've forgotten to look for it and the thrill of being a detective of your past self. In this evening's case, the mysterious shape was three American dollar bills and a square piece of notepaper with a rough map of Vermont and 7th and 8th streets in someone else's handwriting...

I've just remembered: this is from my old landlord when she was telling me where the key-cutting place was near her office so I could make my subletter his own set of keys.

So the last time I wore these pants was the end of April and the three dollars is the change from getting the keys cut. Change that technically belongs to her! Minor event, but it's still satisfying to the detective in me that I have these artifacts from this day.

I want to read The Mezzanine again.