So far, I’ve broken down and bought my second copy of From Dawn to Decadence. Dearest brother, I believe my first copy is buried somewhere in your pile of books or you left it in the patio “cabinet” that Dad took, contents and all, and burned like he’d been threatening to for years. Who to blame? You or Dad? hmm… it’s not like I would have loaned the book to Dad is it?
Again, dear brother, did the same thing happen with The True Believer?
The last I remember seeing of The Scotch-Irish: A Social History and How the Scots Invented the Modern World is when a daughter or two and a son-in-law or two were looking them over. I’ve since searched both daughter’s bookcases and not found my books. I’m at a loss here. I can’t help but wonder if they left them in their uncle’s care.
How is it that Born Fighting, a book I’m not as likely to re-read is still safely on my shelf?
Now I’m not really complaining too much here. My daughters and my brother have provided me with lots of reading material. It’s just that I can’t understand why books I refer to often disappear. Maybe there’s a bookmouse in my house.