1:47 a.m. Forgive me if this entry turns out to be unnaturally short -- I'm feeling slightly headachy and somewhat short myself. Odd, because today was something of a vacation, and something of a change.

I've been feeling pretty housebound, trying to beat the clock and work as many hours as I can without making too many mistakes ... no breaks except for eating and sleeping ... eating at the machine when possible. Except.

Today was the annual book sale at our local Venice library, and of course, we had to go to that. It's one of the big days of my year, along with the even bigger book sale at the Santa Monica library, which will be in a month or so. Books are my life, and used books are almost more fun than new books. Anyway.

So we walked over, got there well before closing time, for a change, and loaded up on a nice big pile of books. This particular sale seems to specialize in books from the '60s and '70s, and shallow, trashy books by all the famous people. There are few mind-stretching treasures, but sometimes one or two will poke through.

But today's headache did not come from the books or the library or the intense walk home with many many pounds of words, but rather, I think, from Costco.

We've been trying, and failing, to go to Costco. It's a huge, huge store of Big Food and big ticket items, a warehouse of consumer goods. It has huge truck-sized openings instead of doors, and every time we've gone so far, they've just closed five minutes before we arrived.

But today -- we went in the middle of the day and we even grabbed an oversized shopping cart and we rolled right in, right past a big display of: boats! Full-size two-person paddle boats. It's a big store. Huge, even.

It took us a while to realize that you had to be a member before you could actually purchase anything Big. That process didn't go very well today and the atmosphere in the place was somewhat tense. I don't know whether the shootings in Pittsburgh or the turmoil in Miami had anything to do with it, but when a guy obviously not from this country rolled over the foot of a woman obviously from, a large nasty fight ensued, with name calling.

And we didn't have enough ID to qualify for the Costco club; nor did many of the people in the very long line. Seems you need three proofs of residency, I think. Maybe letterhead. I forget. Nonetheless, we had to abandon our Big Cart for today and try again some other time.

And traffic was especially snarly. And there was extra shouting in the street -- and all in all, even though I thought I was feeling housebound, by the time we got home I was really really glad to be back inside my own familiar people-sized doors.

Plus, I have a lot of new books to read. An Italian cookbook, Audience magazine, Vol. 2, Number 2, with art by Milton Glaser and a Nabokov short story. The Ruined Motel, a book of wonderful poetry by my old friend Reg Gibbons. A new (to me) Vonnegut, Didion, and DeLillo. Some Dean Koontz to try.

I may never leave home again.