Sara Bickley


Okay, so what I called the “final shape” of my library… well, isn’t. I have just received (and am, I confess, internally squeeeing about) a copy of Immemorial Silence that my uncle sent me. (Which, by the way, solves the mystery: Divine Enticement must have been from my grandma.) Apparently there was just a bartick of a shipping delay. Considering that he ordered it well before the end of the year, and the whole project’s just begun, and all that, I’d have to be awfully churlish not to stir it in. I’m told my sister has a Christmas present – possibly of the printed and bound variety – in the offing for me, too.

I have a planned procedure in place for books that people may (in ignorance or forgetfulness) give me in the future. But these, I guess, have snuck in just under the wire.

(On a personal note, I went to the grocery store today and didn’t stop by the book racks, and felt very tough and accomplished about that. I have to celebrate these small victories because, as you will – if you keep up with this blog – hear me repeat many, many times, I suck.)

This also means the number of books in the library no longer divides evenly by three. I’m going to keep 88 as my goal number for this year, though: that’s an insane enough challenge, on account of I have all those Bibles and dictionaries to get through.


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