I've been slowly but surely working through my stash of books. I brought an Ingram sized box full along with me, and I'm about 2/3 of the way through it now. Problem is, all the light and fluffy ones go first. For the past weeks, I've been on a steady diet of serious literary works, with nonfiction about autism and avian extinction thrown in. I was desperate yesterday, so I raided the 'free' bookshelf outside the library. I would have raided the library, but it's only open for an hour on first thursdays of the month followed by a full moon.
I now have several... fabulous, ancient harlequins. They are all set 'abroad', somewhere warm, and they all have the heroine sighing over a forceful, dangerous, but handsome noble of Latin blood. Was this what they were all like, or did someone in this town have a particular fantasy?
"Yet love knew no bounds. In a few days time, she would leave the Castelo far behind, but always she would have in her heart this strange, slightly sinister man whose only words to her were tinged with sarcasm."
Oh dear. Maybe I'll go back to my passenger pigeons.
Speaking of edible birds, happy Thanksgiving! I bought a couple bottles of Martinelli's, and I'm going to be starting a party in the lobby of the motel. It'll be wild. Have fun, y'all.