A Bookworm’s Christmas

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I can always rely on Christmas to replenish my reading list. Though I’m usually hesitant to don the cape of any boxy classification (nerd, intellectual, snot), I don’t mind being a known bookworm because it means books for Christmas. (And I have to admit to feeling relief that I stopped getting the gift of journals when people started using computers for such things because my drawers can’t fit anymore.)

While some of the books I receive are chosen via my wish list, I get a thrill every time I open the wrapping and scan the cover for the title. Sometimes, I have to recall what it was about the book that made me add it to my list because I discovered it long ago; sometimes, I get books my friends loved and had to pass on to me; sometimes–okay, just this time–the book is authored by a friend. Well, another caveat, Hard Luck Hank (a fun, sci-fi adventure story, by the way) wasn’t technically a Christmas present, but it arrived in the mail just before the Christmas break after being jockeyed around at the post office because it was delivered to my old address.

The next time I’m up at 1:30 a.m. suffering from caffeine-induced paranoid delusions, I’ll have a book to crack open. Welcome distraction indeed.

Oh hey! I also got this beauty!

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Time to learn how to fix typewriters. (Rest assured, I will not be lugging this thing to coffee shops to look cool.)

…I also got this. Because I’ll never grow up you can’t make me! D:<

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Did you get any good books this Christmas?

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