You read me! You really read me! : A mixed blessing in one act

I was sitting at the public desk this afternoon, when one of our regular patrons—and my secret favorite—came up, said, “I hear you’re looking for a copy of this,” and tossed a trade-sized paperback at me. “I want it back when you’re done.”

I caught it gingerly—this patron has a sense of humor that recommends caution—and examined it:

“Hey, thanks!” I said. “How did you know?”

“You said you couldn’t find it in that review you wrote about her stories last week.”

“You read my blog?” I asked, thinking nervously of the F-Bomb thing last Sunday.

“Only when you write interesting stuff.”

Fair enough.  “How’d you find it?”

“That Top Suspense review you did a while back. You’ve been slacking on the reviews, lately.”

“I haven’t had time.”

“Make time.  But only for books I’ll like.”

“Maybe I’ll do this one,” I said, lifting Killer Instinct.

“Why? I’ve already read it.”

“There could be one or two other people who haven’t.”

“Other people read your blog?”

“At least six,” I said, fudging a little*.  “Not including you.”

“Huh.”

“Why don’t you ever comment?”

“You really want me to?”

“Never mind.  Can I blog about this conversation?”

“Sure.  I probably won’t read it, since I know what happens.”

“That’s okay.  Please don’t comment if you do.”

“No promises.  There a computer free?”

“Number five,” I said, pointing.

I was left with the book and the sudden urge to read over every one of my library-based posts to make sure they won’t bite me in the rump and set the commenting around here to moderate all.

But I read the first few chapters of Killer Instinct instead.

Thanks, Mrs. P.

____

*Never mind which way.

Hiding Today — Must Write

cute baby animals - Acting Like Animals: The Majestic Fox Flower is Ready to be Picked
No content today–I need to cobble together this one $&%# scene tonight because it’s wearing out its welcome in my subconscious and it’s do or die time.

Or possible do and die . . .

Either way, I’m ducking under until it’s done, just like the snow foxostrich.

________

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