PublicBookshelf Book Club
Weekly tips on great novels to read.
It is Friday, just before midnight, and I'm sitting in my living room, and, in spite of the heat, trying to settle myself with a cup of hot chocolate before traipsing off to bed. Settling Lucille Peabody is no simple chore after the past week. I am a bundle of nerves. I have taken up this journal to give my fingers something to do before I pick my nails to the bloody quick. I suppose, as usual, I'm also writing out of a sense of guilt. It has been a full week since I've penned any jewels of wisdom to these pages and Father Hammond inquired again last Sunday of my literary progress. Before I chronicle the highlights, I'll dismiss the mundane.
Monday and Tuesday were spent unpacking and cataloging books, long boxed away in my crowded basement, and stacking them willy-nilly about the living room. They will go on the new shelves in my parent's room, as soon as I bring myself around to the postponed chore of cleaning out the quarters. As a teenager I worked in the city library and the habits of order have plagued me ever since. In my robot-mind I must sort to author, content, etc. before I'm satisfied with my small library. In between time I tended my garden and even managed a walk or two along the ocean. On Wednesday eve I followed my usual routine and attended the Ladies Alter Society meeting at our church.