All right, look here - this is getting ridiculous. I mean, I know Lynne Truss once said it was just sad to see someone with bookshelves full of books he'd already read, but still...

I should make sense of that for some people, I suppose. I think, at last count, I owned something like 200 books I hadn't read yet. Currently, looking about my room, I can see 12 that I've started and haven't finished yet, as well as entirely too many that I just haven't read at all. The books I've started include a collection of Shakespeare's tragedies, a collection of criticism on Shakespeare, a book on Old English language, The System of the World by Neal Stephenson, Grimm's Complete Fairy Tales, and the collection of Irish folk tales Yeats collected (a gift from Jessica, which I am, in fact, reading, if only in parts). It's also four in the morning, and this summer that's far too late for me.

Observances: A post-it about a possible Shakespeare paper topic (concerning who rings off in the plays, actually) is stuck to the wall above my bed; I have two short story drafts pinned to my corkboard, along with a note as to when the battle of Bannockburn happened (June 23-24, so yesterday and today, in 1314) and &c. Also, I notice one note on the corkboard is about who rings off in Shakespeare's plays, so I have no idea what I put in the note above my bed.

Of course, my vision is blurring, so I don't think I'll bother checking - I'm kidding, naturally. I'll check. But not until I'm in bed already.

That's enough of this.