I finished a book in the final week of 2025, making me uneven on Goodreads. 65 books instead of 64 books. I probably could have finished one of the other two books I was currently reading, but instead of committing to completing one of the existing books, I decided I had to read The Correspondent. Immediately.

It’s funny because when I first heard about the book, I was interested. But when it came up in the library, it felt like the last thing I wanted to read. Ever. I don’t like epistolary novels. But I suspended the hold rather than canceling it. Every time I saw it in the queue, I thought about canceling it — I was never going to read it — but then I was in the final days of 2025, and I needed a book, and suddenly, that was the only book in the world I wanted to read.

I unsuspended it, and it came in within a few hours.

It’s funny how that happens. Something sounds completely unappetizing (figs), and then it becomes your favourite food, a treat you buy yourself on special occasions. Or a book sounds uninteresting and then becomes the only thing you want to read.

The woman writing most of the letters in the book processes her world via her correspondence. She isn’t the best person at face-to-face relationships, but on paper, she asks probing questions that show how deeply she listens and remembers. But she is going blind, so this favourite activity (handwriting letters) will either need to change or go away as she loses her sight.

Moreover, her second favourite activity — reading — will also change. It’s not that she won’t have access to stories anymore, but she will need to consume them differently. For some people, there is something different about reading the words off the page vs. listening. I’m one of those people who prefer to read the words vs. listen to them.

So she mentions several times during the book that due to her older age and imminent blindness, she selects her books carefully. She re-reads her favourite books, knowing it may be the last time she spends time with those characters in that way, and she is selective about which new books she chooses.

I would probably first work my way through the books I’ve been hoarding; the ones I’ve been holding because I know they’ll make me happy, so I read one when I need one. And then go back to my old favourites because I’d rather consume something I know will be good vs. take a chance. Though if I did that, I would have missed this book, The Correspondent, because until it rose to the top of my TBR, it wasn’t even something I was considering giving a chance.

But this isn’t a hypothetical. One day, I will realize I’m nearing the end of my life (hopefully, I’ll get time to prepare for the end), and I’ll have to choose how I use my final reading choices after a lifetime of books.

I read this a few months ago, but it stuck with me because I keep seeing commercials for the Olympics, which opens in one month on February 6.

Studies have been done that people who win bronze feel better than people who win silver (with people who win gold obviously feeling the best). They explain,

…Pre-event expectations affect reactions. One finding was that silver medalists may have higher expectations, which amplifies disappointment when they don’t get gold. Bronze medalists often have lower expectations (or different comparisons) so their emotion is less dampened.

In other words, silver people thought they should be able to get gold and are disappointed they didn’t. Bronze people feel lucky that they beat out third place and got on the podium.

Two different reactions, even though the two winners are standing next to one another. I feel like there is a life lesson in there. That we’re happier when we notice what we’ve achieved (made it onto the podium in life) vs. what we missed (silver instead of gold). I’ll definitely be thinking about this at next month’s medal ceremonies.

Not sure what #MicroblogMondays is? Read the inaugural post which explains the idea and how you can participate too.

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I was not going to play Shuffalo, even though I loved the little drawing and the concept of the game: You keep creating anagrams, receiving one new letter each level. I was not going to play Shuffalo because I assumed it was like the new Slate games, similar to the New York Times games. They hook you with a few free rounds and then close it off behind a paywall.

But so far (knock on wood), the Shuffalo drops into my inbox around 11 am every week day. I am so happy to see it that I’ve actually been reading the New Yorker more often because of these warm feelings. So well done, New Yorker.

My recommendation: sign up for the daily reminder.

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Are you also doing #MicroblogMondays? Add your link below. The list will be open until Tuesday morning. Link to the post itself, not your blog URL. (Don’t know what that means? Please read the three rules on this post to understand the difference between a permalink to a post and a blog’s main URL.) Only personal blogs can be added to the list. I will remove any posts connected to businesses or sponsored posts.

It may or may not be International Blog Delurking Week. The first full week of January (January 4 – 10, 2026) is when we’re supposed to slither out of the reading closet and check in with an “I’m here” comment. Barely anyone does this anymore. In the olden days, people would pop out of the woodwork. Nowadays, not so much.

So let’s see what happens this year.

So welcome to International Blog Delurking Week. I make a badge every year to mark the occasion, giving you full permission to right-click and grab it for your own.

My reward for remembering to do this (when I could have just as easily forgotten) is that you have to delurk for this worldwide holiday, which is super serious and important. Right?

It is relatively easy. Leave a comment in the comment section below, admitting that you’re here. You can raise your hand and meekly acknowledge that you’re here with a simple, one-word “here” comment; or you can proudly raise your hand and tell us all a bit about yourself (my preferred method); or you can tell me the last good book you read (see, I’m trying to make it easy for you by even providing a comment prompt). The point is that I want to know about the people who read me since there is a huge discrepancy between the number of readers in actuality and the number of readers I actually know are reading. Or a tongue-twister like that.

And that’s all you have to do to celebrate.

So (clears throat to nudge you along), who is here?

Happy new year! May your 2026 be better than your 2025.

I had to do a weird speed-up slow-down thing with reading this week because I finished a book faster than I thought I would, and then had to race through an additional book to make it an even number again. Why an even number? Who knows. But I felt strongly that I needed to close the door on 2025 with an even number in my Goodreads end-of-year review. Though I don’t always put re-reads in that review so the number isn’t correct anyway.

The world is chaos.

But now it’s a new year. 2026. Let’s make it a good one.

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Stop procrastinating. Go make your backups. Don’t have regrets.

Seriously. Stop what you’re doing for a moment. It will take you fifteen minutes, tops. But you will have peace of mind for days and days. It’s the gift to yourself that keeps on giving.

As always, add any new thoughts to the Friday Backup post and peruse new comments to find out about methods, plug-ins, and devices that help you quickly back up your data and accounts.

And now the blogs…

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But first, second, helpings of the posts that appeared in the open comment thread last week. To read the description before clicking over, please return to the open thread:

• None… sniff.

Okay, now my choices this week.

Scientist on the Roof talks about a general sense of unease, disconnected from any single event. Everything is fine, “And yet, there is a nagging sense of discontent that’s just kind of there. Like a film on top of boiled milk. Like an unpleasant aftertaste that just lingers. I feel like I can’t trust myself. Like I am on a cliff edge but have no idea that I am a step away from a catastrophe.” This perfectly captures how I feel right now, too. Let’s hope that we’re not one step from catastrophe. May all of our fears not come true.

Lastly, Infertile Phoenix talks about recovering from burnout and taking time to rest. This thought stayed with me: “Moving doesn’t get easier. Maybe it gets harder. I was comfortable where I was. I lived there for five years. For four years, I lived in a home that I owned. I won’t be settled like that for a while. But I’m glad I moved.” Doing something more doesn’t always make it easier. Hope we all get stability in 2026.

The roundup to the Roundup: Happy new year. Your weekly backup nudge. And lots of great posts to read. So what did you find this week? Please use a permalink to the blog post (written between December 26 – January 2) and not the blog’s main URL. Not understanding why I’m asking you what you found this week. Read the original open thread post here.