It's Sunday afternoon, I've just awakened from a nap, and I'm looking for something to read. I've got a wide variety of books to choose from on my "to read" shelf, but there's an old book that catches my eye (way up there near the ceiling, where my wife never dusts).
It's a Hardy Boys mystery. How long have I had that thing?
Wow, does that book bring back memories. I remember getting a new Hardy Boys mystery 4-5 times a year when I was eight or nine years old. My cousin (a girl) was reading the Nancy Drew mysteries at the time, and we used to sit on the porch for hours on Sunday afternoons and see who could read the most chapters.
Funny, I read a lot of those things, but don't recall a single name, plot, or title. Sort of like a lot of things in my life as I get older. Can't remember my own name a lot of days. And, yes, I'll admit it. Sometimes I even confuse the dog with my son. Many mornings, when I put out the food, I mix up the names.
Glad to know you. What's your name, anyway?
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