Okay, that’s it. Call up the nice men in white coats and send them to take me away. Or perhaps they could just confiscate my library card and ban me from so much as hearing about any more challenges for a while? Yeah, that would do.
In case you can’t tell from that, I went to the library today. (And I had to walk down wet streets to get there! That’s right, we’ve actually had RAIN. A whole 38mm; our first in two months.) But I digress. Before the city library, I was in my uni library, doing a spot of blog-surfing that happened to include Carl’s. And ... he’s launching the R.I.P. II Challenge! I immediately began thinking desperately of all the reasons I shouldn’t sign up: so many challenges already, thirty-four books still in the TBR box and only five months till the next BookFest, uni, plus all the extra-curricular hours I’m obliged to spend locked in battle with a certain protein-viewing program. (Don’t let the blog fool you; when it comes to anything remotely advanced, computers tend to hate me.)
And then I got to the city library. And - ooh ... look what I borrowed . . . Nocturnes by John Connolly and The Shape-changer’s Wife by Sharon Shinn. Ideal for R.I.P. II - what a coincidence! I wonder how that could have happened....
Confession time: that was far from all I borrowed. There was also: A Sentimental Murder (more true crime, a case from the eighteenth century this time); Ella Minnow Pea (on my Wanted list since I read Lynne’s review; The Maltese Falcon (how have I never read this?); Down Under - I can’t wait to read Bryson’s take on my native country; and How to Kill Your Husband (and other handy household hints) - should be hilarious. And that’s on top of all the books I already have checked out. So I am now in possession not only of a truly formidable TBR pile, but a library borrowing slip literally as long as my arm.
If I actually do sign up for R.I.P., I should definitely be certified.
But I have the comfort of knowing I’m not the only nut around town; I took a shortcut through Anzac Square en route to Central and discovered they they’ve reversed the directions of the escalators - again. That’s the fourth time that I know of, and the second in a week. What would possess anyone to do that?
And in totally un-book-related news: yesterday Mum found out she’s going to be a great-aunt and promptly dove head-first into strenuous and valiant denial. One of her sisters will be a grandmother, the rest will be great-aunts, her brother will be a great-uncle, but she ... no, no, definitely not.... It’s raised an interesting question. When the baby arrives, it will be my first cousin once removed - but what will I be to it?