Can you tell I'm a writer? Let's test your knowledge of the writer's life.
I come into some money and I 
immediately go to:
A) the grocery store, for some much-needed foodstuffs
B) the bank machine, to pay off my bills
or
C) the bookstore for Jared Diamond's Collapse: How Societies Choose to Fail or Succeed, Masterpieces of Murder: The Best True Crime Writing from the Greatest Chroniclers of Murder, and Susanna Clarke's Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell for an aggregate of 2104 pages; thence to the liquor store for a bottle of Jackson-Triggs 2004 Proprietor's Grand Reserve Sauvignon Blanc; and thence to a restaurant, albeit one where they ask if that's for here or to go. I'm feeling flush, so, throwing caution to the winds and carpeing diem for everything I'm worth, I ask for extra hot sauce and a beef, rather than vegetarian burrito.
La vie Boheme ain't what it used to be.
raincoaster 
When Nerval, the 19th century French poet finally came into some money, he went off and bought himself a live lobster and a velvet ribbon to tie around its neck, and he spent his days walking it around Paris. You might like to think of a pet to buy with your next paycheck?
I hope you enjoy Diamond’s latest — I’m half-way throught it (loved Guns, germs and stell) and am horribly disappointed. Oh well.
A pet is a good idea, but the last one I had was – honest to god – carried off by a bald eagle. I guess I should just get heavier pets. Seafood is obviously out of the question, but a dobie cross might have staying power.
As for Diamond, I adore Mike Davis and Jane Jacobs, so I figured I’d better get started on the Diamond thing. Haven’t cracked it yet, still working my way through Maisonneuve; I must say, for such a good magazine they can be awfully parochial. How the hell is anyone west of Trois Rivieres supposed to know what a depanneur is? I read the article half-thinking it had something to do with drilling holes in skulls.