11:11 on 11/11...And here the storm hits, making me glad I didn't stop at the grocery store on the way home. (Except that I'm out of good post-rehearsal-it's-late-but-I-gotta-eat-something food. And vitamin C drops.)
I heard that the books were leaving Thursday, which kicked me into overdrive. In my brain, that caused a combination of both organizing all the stacks (now you can see all the spines! all the encyclopedia and tax law sets are together!) and jumping my pulled total up to fifty-six. But who else is gonna want that Versailles visitor's guidebook? Or all the Crichton novels? Or the poor old atlas that is split at the seams and thus begging to be used for some sort of decoupage?
When I die, just bury me under all the books I own, as that will be mausoleum enough to hold me.