Go 'Canes! (Who won the Stanley Cup last night, resulting in the very unusual situation of something going on in the streets of Raleigh, North Carolina, after midnight.)
Second, in response to my post about my books' remarkable ability to reproduce, Carla posted the following comment:
Just occurred to me to wonder whether you can identify the culprits from population genetics, e.g if romances inexplicably proliferate then it's a fair guess the books are behaving like their protagonists (though IME most romances have a rabbit-like [or rather, dunnock-like] level of activity but a surprisingly low level of fertility). Whereas if The Law of Real Property and its fellows predominate, then lawyers must have hidden depths the rest of us can only guess at.
I wonder what the offspring of a law textbook and a historical romance might be? Anyone care to hazard a guess?
This seemed far too interesting to bury in the Comment area. Personally, I think that a law textbook and a historical romance might give birth to something like The Quincunx by Charles Palliser, which has some Really Bad Guys, like a romance, and a lot of wrangling over property, like a law textbook. It's also, like a law textbook, really heavy (I bought the hardcover when I was pregnant with my son and found that I couldn't bear to haul both it and him around) and very, very long. It's lacking, however, in the Gorgeous Heroine and HEA areas. But children often do lack the notable qualities of their parents.
What is multiplying on my shelf is historical fiction, which makes me think that the history books are somehow involved. It may well be that they're mating with the few historical romances in the house, which like those inside them are not necessarily adverse to serial partners.
It's possible, of course, that my books are behaving themselves, and that instead there's a conspiracy on the part of the post office and Amazon to keep sending me books. But I haven't investigated that dire scenario properly yet.