"On First Looking into Chapman's Homer" by John Keats
February 27, 2014. I just got home after spending the afternoon in the tiny woebegone office of my car mechanic. When I got home, apropos of nothing and totally out of the blue, I said to my wife "You know what's a strange word? 'décor.' Nobody ever says it; its only use is in 'home décor.'" Then I went into the study, sat down for the first time in my new reading chair that I'd just brought into the room and positioned to my liking, and began reading the novel The Art of Deception by Ridley Pearson. I've just come upon this on page 7: 'At nearly four thousand square feet, the loft gave him plenty of space to play with. It remained a quirky space with a bachelor's sense of independence, a cop's sense of budget, and a man's sense of décor.'