Recently, I've been undertaking a task that I've been putting off for... literal decades, now that I think about it - retrieving and sorting the books that went into bins in my parents' basement when I first moved out of their house. As we've talked about plenty of times, you can glean a lot about person from their chosen media, and our selves are no exception. While a lot of books I uncovered were from my teens and early twenties, there were a few favorites going back to when I was much younger. One of the most beloved books that greeted me for the first time in nearly twenty years was  The Book of Lists ,  accompanied by two of the follow-up volumes. They're the kind of book that, thanks to easy-to-access internet, seem downright quaint now, but there was a time when they, especially the first volume, were my constant companions. At the time, I think I was more focused on the sheer amount of knowledge (some of which was rather... spicy for a kid my age) available ...