Funny thing happened. I received a book in the mail. Ok, maybe that’s not surprising, but I didn’t recognize the title, author, or who the recipient could be if it’s a Christmas gift. It’s just a mystery book. With a signature from the author address “To Elsa”! The plot thickens.
Seriously, this is funny and puzzling to me. Do I ask around family members in case it’s a gift? Do I contact the seller and ask if there was a mistake?
It’s a mildly interesting topic to me. The sort of thing I might enter a GoodRead’s giveaway for while not being something that would make my Amazon wishlist.
Anyway. You don’t have to care, but feel free to speculate in the comments. Thus far I have no additional evidence for your consideration.
Books are a peculiar thing. What else can be delivered to your doorstep with the same intrigue and far-flung guess work? I mean, anything more mysterious could be written off as a prank or mistake. The scenario could be a writing prompt in itself.
Shrug.
No writing for me until Christmas break . . . whenever that will be. What I do know is I’ll youtube one of those fireplace scenes with Christmas music playing and I hope to read, to write an article, and to remind myself where I stand on . . . I dunno, my three latest projects? Then there may or may not be cookie baking involved. Possibly by my nine-year old while I read! Ha!
Blessed Advent, folks. Warm wishes to you. Oh, and may a mystery book appear in your head and on your computer screen rather than in your mailbox! 🙂
PS. 
