At lunch yesterday, I went to the library to find my book and read the last few gripping pages. Of course I went to the shelf only to find that the last copy had been borrowed. So I crossed the road to Dymocks where I located my book and sat down and read my way through the final chapters ("I'm fine thanks, just browsing"). I finished and replaced the book with a sense of accomplishment akin to what I would have felt had I written The Blind Assasin myself.
I then went and used a voucher to aquire myself a gratis latte. I went back to work feeling positively affluent.
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