No Place

I need to read.
Like hardcore.
For a solid two hours.
And there is no place for me to do it.

Pitts is cold, dark, and evidently today it's loud.
Woodruff is good for writing, but there are billions of people there.
Brooks has old people studying very very loudly.
I'm going to try sitting on one of the couches I selected
for their comfortability,
putting in earphones
and listening to some Schubert
while I try to plod through the Bonhoeffer.

Is it bad that I want to punch that lady across Brooks?
She's loud. "But, what I'm sayin' is that what happened is..."
Her bag has wheels. And an adjustable-height handle. If you know what I'm saying.

BAH!!!