HOW DOES THIS HAPPEN? or, My house is a house of wonders

(And allergens. Achoo! But we are getting rid of the Christmas tree now.)

So, okay, I just just just read this book called Purple Hibiscus, by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, during a break I was taking from Forever Amber, and I thought what a good book it was and how I'd have to check out Ms. Adichie's other stuff. And today, I swear to God, when I was cleaning up, I discovered Half of a Yellow Sun, which is by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie (what a fantastic name), floating around the house needing to be put away.

Okay.

HOW DOES THIS HAPPEN? This happens to me all the time. All the time. I will read a book by a new author (new to me, not necessarily to the world), and then shortly thereafter I will find more books by that author floating around my house. Most often these books will appear from nowhere, and nobody in the house will have any idea where they came from or why we own them when no one seems to know anything about them. It is so mysterious. The only explanation I can think of is that my house reads minds. And then produces new books, pop, when they are required and if I have behaved well. In this case I think my house has produced the book by way of apology for making me sneeze and sneeze and sneeze, although I think I may just be allergic to stress rather than something inside my house.

Anyway, as regards books, I got a whole bunch of new ones. I love getting new books. I love it. I got a bunch, and a bunch of movies also, including (hurrah!) Harvey (which I think I haven't seen since I showed it to tim lo these many years ago). I am well pleased. There are never enough books in my life, but I get excited after Christmas is over and I have many more books. I try not to think about what I will do when I go to grad school.