Deena in Literary
I bring six books (six is a good number, less than that, scary) and already know the order in which I want to read them. I pick up the one I was sure I wanted to read first/most and it looks...eh. I think, 'what was I thinking to bring this?' and pick up the next. It looks mildly intriguing. I start reading it. One of the characters totally throws me for a loop and I get more and more disgusted until I realize that I'm just not going to be enjoying it, and I put it back. Then, my mood is all disgruntled. I think about the order and realize that my head was totally screwed on wrong. I sort through them again and re-order them. I stack them from most want to read to least want to read. I put the one that threw me for a loop on the bottom of the pile. I think about it some more. I go get coffee. I re-order them again. I walk off for an hour because I've been betrayed by my books. I come back and talk to them about it. I decide to be sneaky and slip the second one out of the stack and start reading. It's okay. Fine, it's better than okay. Halfway through, I realize I'm still feeling betrayed by the first two. The now-second one goes to third from the bottom. I put the books down and go find a magazine on bungee jumping, or a book on building your own shortwave radio from the elderly relative's stack of books published before 1940. It's not until late in the night that I can go back and read all the way through the first book on the stack and realize I've got the order right, finally.
My god, it's not just numbers I anthropomorphize. I do it to everything.