Basket.

I have to find some way to inventory my ever-growing book collection. A rough list counts over forty, but I believe the real number to be higher. The magnitude of my book-buying only dawned on me recently when an acquaintance mentioned that some collection of his (I forget what) was probably over a thousand dollars in value. I expressed surprise, but he countered that I can spend fifty dollars on a book. I had no answer, and the monetary value of my book collection is probably in the high hundreds or more.

People get honestly surprised I can spend thirty, fifty dollars on a book, but in the same way I can't see how they can spend a similar amount on clothes. All I shop for are books, and I don't even have space to organise them. I just somehow know where they all are. I think.

Anyway, first week in new... scratch that, additional appointment, and it seems that everyone is looking for me, all at the same time, swarming all over my office like angry ants out of a nest, pestering for this and that, demanding this and that and of course failing to see the lack of logic so prevalent. Why do so many people go mad these days? Everyone's got depression, everyone's got some stress-related disorder and everyone is permanently on edge. Those who get highlighted are simply they who fail in self-preservation.

And so in between teaching yet another new batch of officers the various... nuances of duty, in between scurrying to answer queries and note down details on two different computers, in between trying to please those who need pleasing and snapping at those who don't deserve it, in between cleaning, washing and ironing, I find that life is all about being able to take care of yourself.