It’s been a challenging month. In the midst of the usual familial stuff, we’ve also been dealing with a major fracture among some of our closest friends.
I’ve been fortunate to have plenty to distract me from over-thinking the whole mess – kids, home, family, etc. plus putting a lot of effort into PitchWars (a writing contest), starting a new manuscript, and really focusing on my writing, have all kept my brain mercifully occupied.
Now that the dust has (mostly) settled and we start the process of grieving the loss of friendship, my wicked sense of humor rears its head. Big surprise, right?
Years ago, before we moved into our city digs, the hubby and I had already done a major cull of our book collections. We did another cull prior to the move – inner city living, not a lot of space, y’know? Even so, we still had boxes upon boxes of books.
As one friend hauled yet another box of books out of the moving van, he grumbled that he was going to buy us a Kindle (already had one, thanks!) and said, “I hate helping smart people move. They have too many books.”
Too many books?! What is this “too many” of which you speak?
And here’s where that sense of humor comes in… today, looking back… I can’t help but think, “huh, maybe that should have been a clue.”
I’m not saying I’ll only befriend people who are fellow bookworms, but… if you think I have “too many” books, or don’t understand my love of reading, prepare for me to give you major side-eye and to seriously question your judgement.