Five books came in the mail today. Five. I walked in with the boxes and John said, "Did you get your book?" and I said, "I got three packages, it's got to be in one of them.

Well, guess what? IT'S NOT.

Sigh. Two of the three Montgomerys, the Pettengill, the Bischoff, and the Charnas, now proudly in my to be read pile. But the original Leroux? Nowhere to be seen. Never mind that I ordered it at least a week before most of the titles above.

Somewhere, an Amazon shipping dude who hates his job is chortling over the agony he's putting me through. Damn you, shipping dude. Damn you.