Spent the entire evening reorganizing my bookshelf by 'how likely the protagonist would fuck me.' The sci-fi section is depressingly sparse. Almost threw out my copy of Dune when I remembered Paul Atreides would absolutely ruin me with that weird Bene Gesserit sex magic. My therapist says I need to 'form real human connections' but let's be honest—being tied up and called a worthless bookworm by someone who actually finished their Goodreads challenge sounds way more therapeutic. Also found three overdue library books. Oops. (Current mood: Horny existential crisis with a side of late fees)