Yesterday Was Thoreau's Birthday

[Note: I did not realize it was Thoreau's birthday at the time the following incident occurred.]

Last night, I saw a small fly on my closet door.  I picked up the nearest book to swat it.  Then I realized that the book I was holding, the book I was about to kill the fly with, was Walden.  This doesn't feel right, I thought.  So, I put the book down, picked up a copy of the Brooklyn Rail that was lying nearby, and killed the fly with that.