In Bed by 2:00

Yesterday, despite the release of the new Harry Potter, the dude and I went to Philadelphia to play tourist in our adopted hometown. We headed off to Rick's for cheesesteaks; it was supposed to be a farewell, but there has been a reprieve.

We headed over to the Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts, the first art museum in the country. They currently have The Gross Clinic, and I have now seen it twice as often as I ever saw it when it was hanging just two blocks from my office... We said we were going to start there and work our way to the door of the old building, but we got totally distracted by the wallpaper in a room filled with black lights. Virgil Marti's psychedelic "Morris-esque" wallpaper was too intriguing. Even the women who asked about the Gross Clinic, clearly having only come to see that and the special exhibit Warp Trance (um, hey, we're part of the art), got sidetracked by that room. Although the whole gallery smelled faintly of urine, (the dude assures me it was age and possibly mildew) the building itself (Furness) and the collection were incredibly interesting. We popped over to the contemporary wing--why does viewing contemporary art always make me feel like I'm going shopping?--for a bit. On our way out, we were accosted by a docent who brought us into the sculpture wing and gave us a little tour.

We then walked over to DiBruno Brothers to spend the dude's birthday gift certificate. We ended up with a cheddar, an aged gouda, and a washed rind cheese--the stinkiest ever. Our fridge currently stinks of old socks mixed with poo. Yum! The stinky cheese is Drunk Monk, just in case that description was too much for you to resist.

We arrived home at 4:00 to find my copy of Deathly Hallows sticking out of the mailbox. When I only had just over 150 pages to read at 11:30, I determined to stay up and finish. And I did.

But I only read it so quickly because I read it before. Must be. Pblllllllllllllllllllllllt. Unlike the New York Times, I'm not talking.