The Squire and I are both serious readers. When we find an author we like, we will go to any lengths to get all the books in that particular series, so we can read them from the beginning. It is understood that the spouse with a book in hand is to be dusted off as necessary, but otherwise left undisturbed.
Last night, The Squire found that two books by one of his favorite authors were available at a library branch not too far from us – not our local branch, which is virtually around the corner. He had exactly fifteen minutes before the branch closed, and raced out of here as if his library card was on fire, screeching into the parking lot with seconds to spare.
He sat down at the dining room table, and was soon in outer space. When I bent over to kiss him good-night, I startled him, as he obviously wasn’t expecting me to be on Safehold, or whatever planet he was visiting. I have no idea what time he came back to Earth – or to bed.
While he was at church this morning, I decided it was time to clean off the dining room table, before one end of it collapsed, and spent a fair amount of time putting away, and throwing away. You’d be amazed at the amount of clutter that can accumulate on a table built for eight people. I swear, goblins come in and drop stuff on that table – I don’t recognize half of the things there.
A few minutes ago, The Squire came into the den in an absolute panic. “Where are my library books? You didn’t return them, did you?”
“No, I put them upstairs on the table next to the guest room sofa, where you usually read them.”
He nearly collapsed with relief. Honestly, I do love that man.
