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Once the note was written with arrival and departure times for the (lovely) wife when she arrives home, I leave the apartment for the library. The six year old much-abused library card had been easily found and placed back into my wallet. The books required for my report had been written down with the authors names and their publishers in my Palm Zire. Success was within reach.
That was until my arrival, where it would seem that the library is closed on Mondays. Upon further inspection, the library is indeed closed on Mondays, making me feel more like the bottom-dweller knowledge seeker I really am.
While my appetite for information was denied, my appetite for tacos was aroused as my nose sniffed out the conveniently located Taco Bell next door to the library.
Failure is much better received while consuming tacos.
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