***

Josh took me out in his car yesterday. He says that once I can drive a stick, I can borrow his car anytime. He needs to get to work, and then the car would just sit in the parking lot all day, so it might as well be doing something useful.

So, we went out. He took us far enough outside of town to avoid a lot of traffic, and then put me behind the wheel. His car was brand new only a few months ago, and he was willing to let me drive it. What a guy.

The car didn't burst into flames or anything, so I guess I did OK, for my first time. Mostly, I need a lot more practice. I'd get up to 4th gear only a little jerkily a few times in a row, but then I'd completely forget what I had just done and stall it a few times before even getting started. Someday, though, I will master this. It was always something I'd known I really should learn to do, but I never had the opportunity.

***

I've been reading a lot of strange things lately. It started because I wanted to respect my new roomate's privacy, and make Rijid's bedroom a no-Ana-zone as quickly as possible. Remember, his bedroom used to be the library. I didn't have the space in my room for all three large bookcases, so I moved only one bookcase,and stacked books on it two levels deep, and also in crates in the closet. My room is the neatest it's been in my entire life, but I can't find anything.

The plan was going to be, when D. got his own place, he would take one of the dressers, freeing space in the bedroom for another bookshelf. (It looks like that may not actually be a working plan for quite some time, but that's another story altogether.) The point is, in an effort to reduce the library so it would maybe almost fit in two bookshelves instead of overfilling three, I'm finally forcing myself to read all the books I bought when I was spending $20/month at the library book sales.

Seriously, you wouldn't believe how many crappy books I have. Note to self: I am not allowed to go to library book sales again, ever. I walk in with ten bucks, my eyes glaze over, and the next thing I know, I'm the proud owner of a 6-foot tall stack of books NO ONE WANTED. That's the thing about library sales. These are the books that sat around collecting dust for years. They weren't actually expecting to sell them to anyone, but then I walked in. "Ooooh. Boooooks. Me like books. Books goooood!"

Yes, sometimes you can find good stuff at a library sale. But without a little discretion, you can also find yourself with a whole lotta crap.

So, I'm finally attempting to clear out some of the crap. If it doesn't capture my interest by 50 pages, it goes away. This sounds like it should work, but if I read 50 pages and then want to read more, the whole process comes to a screeching halt. Hmm. Am I going to continue reading this good book, or do I want to stop reading it, to try and read a few more books I probably won't even like?

I managed to clear out almost half a shelf, but then I got stuck on Groucho Marx, Master Detective. It wasn't even good enough that I'll want to reread it ever, but it was so much better than the last dozen or so things I'd attempted, I took a few days off to finish it. Then, a few more books that I decided I didn't really need, and then I found Asimov's Foundation Trilogy, and the culling of books stopped for another week.

Right now, I'm working on The Moonstone. I dimly remember buying it because it had been peripherally mentioned in another book I had read. Originally written in 1868, it's totally cracking me up. Ah, Betteredge. You're such a card.

And, I get to feel all literate and smug, for enjoying this obscure book that hasn't been read by anyone in 100 years or so. Or, maybe not that obscure. I can't be the only Connie Willis fan who has ever tried to read a book just because it was mentioned in To Say Nothing Of The Dog.

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