Oops

I falsely maligned my Boy when I said that he had misplaced my copy of Open Heart, Open Home.

I just found it in the very bottom of a laundry basket full of books.

What?  Doesn't everybody keep books in a laundry basket?

Technically speaking, he did put my books in that laundry basket, but.... there's no way he should have known the titles of those books.

Here's what happened:

Last week when all seven of the Progeny were here (which doesn't happen that often- we can get six pretty regularly, but one of the married girls is usually missing), we went through a bookcase and culled books. Here's my plan- every time they are all here, we will go through one bookcase- if they know that's a book they will want, their name goes in it. In some cases, they can take it home/to their room, although nobody really wanted to do that except the Boy.  Yes, there are some cases where more than one Progeny wants the same book, but they have worked those differences out in good humor. The youngest two are sort of getting the short end of the stick because they haven't the informed judgment of the older four, but I figured by the time we get to the end of the bookcases, the younger lot will have informed their judgment, and the older lot promise to share with the siblings.

Then, if nobody wants a book, we left it on the dining room table to get rid of.  Mostly.  The Great Ages of Man has ended up back on my shelves for this year.

So after we finished culling the books, the Progeny went about their business and I started unlisting books from Library Thing and listing them either at or Amazon.

Some of them went in the 'going to the thrift shop' box.

I intended to do this in a hurry because we had company coming for dinner so the books needed to be off the table.  But, well, they were books.  I had to thumb through them.  And then there was a last minute scramble and I had the boy sweep all the books off the table and into a laundry basket for me and put it in my room for later.  I forgot that I'd also been reading Open Heart, Open Home, and it was on the dining room table along with those fifty-'leven other books.

So I found it last night while listing books, and I will have to apologize to him.  Fortunately, I wasn't crabby about the missing book, just depressed.  I was crabby about my missing iPod earbuds (my husband snores and I drown him out with the iPod.  I snore, too, but my snoring doesn't keep me awake).

I also have a teacart loaded with books to browse through for the upcoming schoolyear, two books to mail, another bookshelf of books that needs to be listed or tossed, and two books from which I intend to cut pictures for an art project (it burns and stings just to type that).

And I'd kind of like to read a couple of these books.

So many books, so little time has more than one meaning around here.