Happy Vernal Equinox!
Reminds me of my favourite essay of all time, George Orwell’s Bookshop Memories:
Many of the people who came to us were of the kind who would be a nuisance anywhere but have special opportunities in a bookshop. For example, the dear old lady who ‘wants a book for an invalid’ (a very common demand, that), and the other dear old lady who read such a nice book in 1897 and wonders whether you can find her a copy. Unfortunately she doesn’t remember the title or the author’s name or what the book was about, but she does remember that it had a red cover.
I leave for 2 minutes to go get a stupid cheeseburger and this happens. God damn it.