That is how many books I have on my Kindle between Unlimited, the library’s ebooks, Bookbub, Fussy Librarian, combing through all of the free ebooks on Amazon, and my purchased or gifted ebooks.
The math is fun on this!
If I only read one book a week for the rest of my life, I have enough books that I’ll be able to read until my 132nd birthday.
If I read twenty books a month, it’s still fine. At five books a week, I have enough books for the next twenty one and a half years! I’d be almost fifty five by then.
A book a day drops it down to just over fourteen years, or just after my 47th birthday.
I don’t know how much I will get to read. Nor do I know how the 603 additional books on my wishlist and the 165 resource books, cook books, and pattern collections I additionally already own factor in.
Time shall tell!
Books have always been a coping mechanism for me.
No matter how many times my mother moved us around, not matter how many states we hopped, Books were always there. Stuffed into couch cushions, weighing down backpacks, lost under the farthest seat of that old red minivan… books are.
I don’t climb trees and hide in books off the ground much these days. My body doesn’t quite like the odd of falling and breaking something at more than three decades old. It was more fun in my formative years.
I’ve also picked up the adult coloring book hobby.
First ones were floral arraignment coloring books I collected. I only started using them just before I was Baker Acted in August 2017. It’s a pleasant enough coping mechanism.
The two above are from this one:
I’m for bed. My brain is fried and tomorrow is Friday. I’m going to dapper up for dinner. 🙂