So instead of collecting Girl2 on the early side, I went for bookstore therapy. I had seen two books on the weekend, and had been thinking about them ever since. I say three days is sufficient delay of purchase to rule out mindless impulse. And when was the last time I bought myself a nice cozy first-hand account of the 2d World War? I got Vassily Grossman's journals translated by Antony Beevor, and a book called 'Five Germanys I Have Known' by I-can't-remember who.
Now it is revealed: I am addicted to WWII memoirs.
And I wish I had stayed in the bookstore, because the Girls are both trying to talk to me, at the same time, as I'm writing this, and it is only marginally more bearable than when they were quarelling while I was trying to write this.