How nice.

what a nice guy   headline: nice guy is nice, girlfriend says!

Today Gabe is wearing a white t-shirt, red shorts, and brown flip flops.

This week I got an email from the library letting me know that the book I had requested was ready to be picked up at my local branch. When I picked it up, I realized that the library — or perhaps the universe — is trying to tell me something.

I reserved an Agatha Christie mystery novel, because first, I like mysteries and second, I need something to read at night before I fall asleep. It can’t be too serious or complicated, or it won’t help me fall asleep, and it can’t be too exciting or scary, or it won’t help me fall asleep.

So anyways I figured this book, “Murder On The Nile”, a Hercule Poirot joint (aka the best kind of Agatha Christie mystery), fit the bill perfectly.

So there I was at the library reserve shelves, and I spotted my name, and so I reached for the book and shortly discovered that it was not a one-inch-thick paperback on the shelf as I had expected, but in fact the book with my name on it was an enormous hardcover book that was so big because it was THE LARGE PRINT EDITION.

Aka the kind with huge type, which turns a tiny book into a huge one, because the words are so big and highly visible that you need about a million more pages in order to include them all.

In other words, the kind of book an old person reads. So, I guess the library thinks I’m an old person.

And maybe they’re not wrong. The data that I’m putting out into the world certainly is old-person-appropriate. I go to bed early, I don’t like crowds or loud noises, and I don’t trust basically anything that happens on the computer.

It’s not really surprising that businesses and government entities like the library would start to assume I need things like large print versions of quiet, old mystery novels (another data point I am sure is being considered when processing my book requests).

My new large print book is not all bad, though. For example, I have been enjoying the small, smug satisfaction of being 150 pages into this book, even though I just started it 2 hours ago, because there are so few words on each page (because the TYPE IS SO LARGE). But all I hear is that I am an impressively fast reader.

“Almost done with that huuuuge book, you say? Didn’t you just start it??”

“Ah yes, it’s nothing really. Anyone can read this fast, if they’re smart enough.”

Anyways, I think the murder is about to happen and I am really busy collecting clues about the most likely suspects (spoiler alert: the murderer is probably the *least* likely suspect) so I really have to get back to reading now.

If you need me, this weekend you can find me sitting up on the couch, eating hard candy and reading my old large-print mystery with my colorful reading glasses on. Because I am embracing my new identity.

Keep the music down, and stay off my lawn. Thanks.



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