Pic of the day: I delayed this entry for some more days because I dreaded taking the books out of the carrying bags. Where will I put them now?
Short: Crazy about books
I borught home a bag of books from work today. Why were they there? Had I expected to read them at work or something? I know work was not always as stressful as right now, but a stack of books?? I am not even likely to read them at home. They will probably lie around until I have to move again, at which time I give some of them to the used book shop. And some of them I'll probably take with me, at least the one by Julian May. "I am certainly going to read this one." And then it will lie in a stack at my new place, wherever and whenever that will be, until I move again. In the end I am going to die, and I still haven't read them. After all, most of us live lives like a book by Philip Jose Farmer: It is all weird and then it ends without any resolution. I took home one by him too, and I cannot even say for sure whether I have read it before. I'll probably not read it again either: The guy creeps me out. It is like NaNoWriMo during a psychosis. Not that I would know... or would I? I got a new doctor appointment on Monday.
Visit the archive page for the older diaries I've put out to pasture.