text: "Why wouldn't it? You're going to die if you keep that up." Her hands are on her hips: he knows this without seeing. He likes to think he knows her well.
  "I'm going to die anyway. It doesn't really matter," he says, and takes another drag on his cigarette. "What are you doing?" he asks again, his voice worn and calm.
  It's the same old conversation on the home stretch, for the last forty-eight hours, between two people who haven’t communicated in years. This is the time for setting things right, to live at least their last two days together: not she in the kitchen and he in the living room chair, but he and she facing each other, with something as simple as eye contact communicating more than the millions of words they've said over the last ten years.
  You would think that now would be the time. You would think that something would have changed by now is the thought that now lingers above Lionel's head, but with the smoke from his cigarette, it rises toward the ceiling and is gone.
  In forty-eight hours, the sun will explode. But, like all other days, God was in a good mood -- and like all other days, God had plenty of things to do.
  Of course, by the time John Jessie arrived, God was already taking a breather, which is God on a barstool, sipping prune juice and soda water from a paper cup. 10 minutes later, John Jessie will wake up, and God will not only shake John Jessie’s hand very sternly but he will also smile the most delicate, calming smile John Jessie has ever seen. Nevertheless, God already knows this.
  Obfuscatory nothingness and then indistinct shapes / ear ringing silence and then soft rock radio. Later: Hints of nature humming outside and then the image sharpens into reds and yellows screaming for attention from every piece of furniture and shoddy tile work and an aluminum kitchen. But now it's little more like a McDonalds but with some additional booths and fewer tables and row after row of overbright skylights. Now: An inescapable musk of fried things, three cash registers, and a set of bathrooms that most likely require keys.
  11 minute’s later, the first thing John Jessie remembers is his wife’s pleasant simper -- 2 parts tickled pink to one part dazzling sunrise, topped off with the slender trim of snow-white teeth and just a pinch of timidity -- but God’s smile is incomparable to hers and all others. It is perfect, which isn’t surprising. God searches for a place to set down His cup but ends up resting it between His legs and shakes John Jessie’s hand.
  
  I'm trying to just sort out my classical (sensu latu) collection, which is organised into directories my period
  If I read in my Music folder the Contemporary and Contemporary VA tracks become a pain in amongst the classical but it is a bit time-consuming adding 27 directories every time I restart.
  To be honest, I don't quite understand the problem, I think. Do you really want to remove a folder? Or don't you want to load it?
  You can add files and folders to MP3tag via drag&drop from the Windows Explorer. This does not have to happen in just one go but can also be done sequentially if you hold down the Ctrl key while dropping.