Hangin' with Haruki

There are times, especially in the middle of the night or on weekends, when I don't want the Haruki Murakami novel I'm reading to end. I love to inhabit the anal-retentive, obsessive compulsive worlds that he lays out. In one of his novels, the protagonist is ironing his shirts, telling us that there are 16 steps (or something like that) involved in ironing a dress shirt. I so love that! I especially love the moments the protagonists are in their homes, between oh-so-Haruki existential moments, and are just being. They go shopping for groceries and shoelaces and razors and sit at home sipping beer and listening to classical music while his famous spaghetti sauce simmers away at the stove and the cat naps. If only you could hang out with fictional characters!