She's writing, she's weaving, conceiving a plot.
Up until this morning, I had three bookcases in my room crammed full of books.
We're talking books jammed in anywhere room can be found, books piled on top of books, and books tucked in between the ones jammed and the ones piled.
I now have four bookcases set up and filled. This is not even taking into account my dresser, which has stacks of classics and poetry on it and is perched upon by my stuffed Cheshire Cat. This doesn't include the stack on the floor next to my bed either. Or even the one threatening to grow over by my closet.
There comes a point where the only logical explanation is that they're starting to breed.
I'm pretty sure I've hit it.
Cue headdesk here.
We're talking books jammed in anywhere room can be found, books piled on top of books, and books tucked in between the ones jammed and the ones piled.
I now have four bookcases set up and filled. This is not even taking into account my dresser, which has stacks of classics and poetry on it and is perched upon by my stuffed Cheshire Cat. This doesn't include the stack on the floor next to my bed either. Or even the one threatening to grow over by my closet.
There comes a point where the only logical explanation is that they're starting to breed.
I'm pretty sure I've hit it.
Cue headdesk here.