I Read A Book. A Grown Up Book. Written For Grown Ups. By Grown Ups. Not Angels. Because, Spoiler Alert: Angels Don't Write Books. Um, You Know, Obviously....

I found a book at the library, it's called Bachelor Brother's Bed and Breakfast. I picked it up because the back of the book said, "This book will do for Vancouver what Anne did for Prince Edward Island." Really! Seriously! Squeee! Move out of my way, children, Mommy has her own book to check out from the library. Right. Now.

This is the part I want to tell you that two minutes after I got home, I brewed that perfect cup of coffee, snuggled up under the cozy blanket on the couch and read and read and read..... But. I can't. Because my life doesn't work like that anymore. In reality, I had to physically pull both girls out of the library while also carrying a 60lb bag full of books and by the time we got home dinner needed to be made. Kids needed to be fought with about unloading that huge pile of books from the library bag. (Listen, kids. You created this problem yourselves.) Emails needed to be answered. School lunches needed to be made. Laundry needed to be switched. Life needed to be cleaned, organized and fed. So, the book sat, waiting for me, on my bedside table.

You caught that keyword there, right? Yeah. Bedside.

Dudes? The battle was pretty much lost as soon as my head hit that pillow.

I read 96 words the first night. Then next night? 109. The next? 279! It was a banner night, let me tell you! And there weren't many of these.

But, with determination, perseverance, and a few days of giving into my caffeine addiction after 4pm, I won the war and finished the book! (Although I'd rather not tell you that the last page took three nights to read...)

And it was a good book! I like these brothers. I want to go and spend a weekend in their bed and breakfast with their open kitchen, walls filled with books, tree house in the front yard, their guest book filled not with names, but with vignettes written by their lodgers about their lives. Dudes. There's even a cat and a grouchy parrot hanging about the house. Who wouldn't want to go there? *Piffle!* And they say Disneyland is the happiest place on earth!

But the best part? Hector and Virgil take turns writing chapters, so you get a different perspective on all the doings at the bed and breakfast from each of them!!

Well.

At least I thought Hector and Virgil wrote them. But, after I put my Jigsaw Jones detective skillz to work (meaning I looked at the front cover), I saw that the book was written, not, by Hector and Virgil, but by some guy named Bill Richardson. Yeah, it played out pretty much just like this:




And, while the let down wasn't quite as big as when I was seven and Mrs. Fry, the school librarian, broke the news that all books are not, in fact, written by angels and published on heaven's printing press (True story, I kid you not.), it still stung a little, you know?

I mean, these guys seemed like friendly, welcoming people. But quirky! I wanted to not only go to their bed and breakfast but actually talk to them, IN REAL LIFE, which is surprising, because, lets face it, I don't like new people. And, especially not conversations with new people.

So, I guess, Vancouver Tourist Bureau, I won't be visiting your city anytime soon. And you can blame it on Bill Richardson and his book full of stupid believable characters who aren't real in real life.

*tsk* Stuff like this never happened when Anne Shirley was alive.

You know what? Whatever, Vancouver. Because, I can totally just create my own bed and breakfast.

In my own house.

Look! It's, like, totes easy!
All I need is a cozy chair and blanket, cute cuddly kitty, happy cup of coffee,
good book, and I can settle in for a nice long read!

Dude.
Ever hear of personal space?

Man.... 

*sigh* 

I bet Anne Shirley never had these kids of problems at her PEI bed and breakfast.