Now who can I blame?

It's all my fault, isn't it?

In my world, 8 hours of sleep every night are necessary to function properly. It prevents excessive grouchiness and makes for a very nice day. But 8 hours of sleep also cuts into waking hours, which I need to do stuff like make a dent in my ever-increasing book working set. It has an odd habit of increasing faster than it decreases. This is all my fault. I wish I could blame other people, but it really is my fault. When I buy books for the book club on Amazon, I have to buy additional ones to make the free shipping limit. When I go to the farmers' market, I inevitably visit Books Inc. and their excellent bargain book shelves. And when Christmas or my birthday roll around, I am not intelligent enough to ask for much besides books. (Well, there is method behind the madness, which I won't divulge here.) During the gift-giving season, I feel like Baldrick. (What would he do with money? Buy a turnip. What would he do with lots of money? Buy a really big turnip.)

Which brings me to my point. I stayed up late reading a couple books. This caused me to wake up late, leaving no time to make a decent cup of tea. I instead substituted a latte and now I feel way too good. Wheeeee!