You just look me in my crazed, gleaming pupils and say it ain't so. I won't ask you to imagine what it looks like when it's long, because you would have to poke out your mind's eye.
What a very pleasant week it has been. I still have no idea why I'm doing this, but I'm also still glad I am.
I'm finding that, unless I start reading before eight, I can only manage around 300 pages. When I try to push it past the 300-ish mark, my eyeballs shrivel and I have to bathe them with extremely expensive French spring water, and then keep them propped up in my head with two fingers. So, I'm trying to stick to 300 pages right now. In an ideal world, I would be disciplined enough to read a shorter book (Like, say, The Willoughbys), and make headway on a longer one on the same day. But, so far, I haven't exhibited any symptoms of discipline. I never have, now I think about it.
For a day or two I was staying up way too late to read and thought I was going to die. (Which would have made me an entertaining headstone in the cemetery, to say the least.) But I've been better about getting finished with books before two.
Yes, all in all it's been fun, these two weeks. I packed almost all my books up the other day (eight days to the move! Yes! Yes!), so I'm relying on the library to get me through the upcoming week. I guess I should be good and get Steinbeck or something, but I really, really want more Madeline L'Engle kids books. Plus the big annual book sale is happening tomorrow and Saturday at the main library. As a Friend of the Central Arkansas Library, I could have gone to the FOCAL preview party today, but I decided not to (read: forgot it was happening) and will instead cross elbows over the Agatha Christie paperbacks with the proles tomorrow.
If I intend to keep taking my own pictures of the books I read, they must be less cruddy.
Also, I must try to balance my reading between grown-up and kids' books. The scales have been a bit, um, tipped lately.
I like books.