In Which I Actually Read a Novel

Last week I HAD to get away from the family for a few hours. After dinner I headed out for Boookman's, a local, used bookstore that is fabulous. I even printed out a list of books from my ever-growing excel sheet of books-I-might-like-to-read. I've been feeling overwhelmed by this enormous list lately, but I haven't been able to tackle it at the library. Turns out that once your fines get over $10, you can't reserve books on-line anymore. Yes, I know, I just need to pay the fine, blah, blah, blah.

Because time is an increasingly precious commodity to me, I elected to just print the fiction books on my list. I'm more likely to read non-fiction these days, but I couldn't bear the thought trying to figure out in which category each book might be shelved. And then checking for the same book in multiple places because who knows if I got it wrong or if they just don't have a copy. I'm tired just thinking about it.

There is a point. Kind of.

I bought three novels, and I finished the first one yesterday. It was Little Children by Tom Perrotta. I LOVED it! I may have to try Joe College and Election. Because the 460 books that I already have on my list might get lonely...