In the meantime, waiting for the baseball games to begin (if rain doesn't shut them down), I'm reading a couple of recommended books and liking them very much: Miss Hargreaves by Frank Taylor and Time Travelers Never Die by Jack McDevitt. I've already finished Down the Rabbit Hole by Peter Abrahams, another recommendation I liked, but don't want to write about until I finish the Taylor and McDevitt books. It'll be a kind of trifecta of agreeableness. (These are part of last week's Library Loot.) Three very different books with not much in common except they're all three well-written and all contain different lengths of mysterious thread. In my classics reading (I suppose that Conrad is regarded as a classic), I'm still struggling a bit through Joseph Conrad's The Secret Agent. The book just has such a dreary core that I hesitate to get back to it when I'm feeling out of sorts. But eventually I'll finish it. I'd like to think I read at least one or two literary classics a year without actually being prompted to do so. It makes me feel very virtuous.
(The expression on the face of Tim Burton's March Hare matches mine today.) Ha!