I have to apologize, once more, for introducing a little dose of French here, but you have to understand: I am distraught.

Yes, I knew it was going to happen. That psychopath Achilles killed Hector.

I tried to push the moment as far back as I could, reading very very slowly, and even starting a new book despite my promises to myself not to start anything until I had finished the Iliad. But finally last night I just could not delay the inevitable any longer, and I read through the death of Hector. I was very stoic for a while, at least until Andromache started weeping, and then I started crying too. Such a weakling.

Oh, and the other book that I picked came from my first time volunteering with the Library sales team. It is a fun experience, and I got to feel very young, as the rest of the volunteers (except for one woman who must be well into her forties) are all sixty and older. They are very nice, and I am so happy I get to sit with a bunch of white-haired people to drink weak coffee and eat bad cookies at the morning break, and to listen as they are telling stories of things that had happened last week or 40 years ago. One woman told about how she sold her car to get a TV in the fifties — this is the same woman who reads at every single meal and comes to help the Library every week for four hours even though she has a bad back. I’m already feeling very fond of her. I was very excited when I got back home after this, and I think Chris thought I was a little crazy.

I can’t wait to go back next week!