Moving back into an apartment after several years in our (currently flooded) duplex has been… interesting. There are a few more grumpy neighbours to duck. (Quick, kids! Pretend you weren’t just screaming down the hallway. Look innocent.) There is a distinct lack of air circulation (a good disincentive to cook bacon for breakfast), and the cigarette smoke drifts in from the balcony next door.

But these disadvantages fade when compared to… the book exchange. Our new building has a very active book exchange right next to the lobby. Every time I wander by, there are new titles waiting. And not all trashy romances and Reader’s Digest Condensed books, either. Right now, thanks to the exchange, I’m reading a wonderful memoir by an Irish writer named Nuala O’Faolain. I actually heard an interview with her on the CBC a long while ago and had forgotten to look for her book.

Voila — there it was on the bookshelf. And my daughter has discovered her first Choose Your Own Adventure books. What could be better?