In Which Your Humble Blogger keeps on reading, or rather kept on reading, as this was months ago. Will I catch up by December 31st?
In Which Your Humble Blogger gets comfy, although what I really could use is one of those trays that goes across the tub, you know? that you can rest your tea mug on, and a book, and maybe a little bud vase.
In Which Your Humble Blogger enjoys the book, in the end, although it’s my least favorite of hers I’ve read so far.
In Which Your Humble Blogger starts doing that thing where he catches up by not writing very much.
In Which Your Humble Blogger judges the cover by the book. Or something.
In Which Your Humble Blogger did actually read the thing himself, but only later.
In Which Your Humble Blogger has a daughter who has ambitions to be a home-maker, which is also a good thing to do.
In Which Your Humble Blogger refrains from yielding to the mash-up craze and writing the first chapter of Zombey and Son.
In Which Your Humble Blogger doesn’t believe the written record. Hmph.
In Which Your Humble Blogger goes back, and forth, and back.