First, you’re roaming around an author’s website and you realize that you read one of their books but never (after checking your blog) reviewed it. You need to review that book!
The last place you remember seeing that book is in the bathroom (we all read there; don’t judge.) so, since you don’t leave books in the bathroom, it’s probably in the bedroom.
It’s not in your bedroom, after sifting through your laundry, moving all your blankets, and checking behind your dresser (we’re still not judging, okay?) but you do find evidence of the mouse you thought you’d gotten rid of. Under your bed, with the remnants of the tissues you’d sworn you’d thrown away after your cold. (Okay, you can judge here, but the mice are coming from my neighbor’s apartment.)
You spend a second thinking of the friendly apartment complex cat that was JUST in your apartment eating and napping and couldn’t s/he have caught the darn mouse? (You make a mental note to pick up ear mite and flea treatments for the cat, just in case.)
You immediately move your refrigerator to plug up the hole you’d noticed earlier (but were waiting for your brother’s help in filling) with the steel wool and repellent your mother provided, noticing the poison you’d put out in the safety box hadn’t been touched.
Putting the fridge back requires you wedging your back against the dishwasher and “walking” your feet up the fridge door, denting it slightly in the process.
You vacuum under your bed and, when emptying the vacuum, notice the black brushes are completely blonde due to the astonishing amount of hair it’s picked up in the 5 times you use it. You grab your scissors and cut your vacuum free.
You then put more poison out, this time not in the silly box, and mouse repellent in your bedroom.
Remembering the book, you look around your bedroom (just in case), your bookshelf, your not-a-bookshelf-bookshelf, and finally in the trunks that make up your living room “table,” cleaning up some as you go.
You finally find the book. But now all the stuff that was on your trunks is on the floor.
At this point, it is too late to review the book, as you have plans to go blues dancing with a friend.
And to top it off, you didn’t even really like the book anyways.
This is what comes of having too many books.