That's right, over to the left, on the sidebar. There are no books on my bedside table right now. I'm currently bookless. And I know I'm a reading addict, because it makes me feel all nervous and jittery that I don't have a book to read. I keep prowling around the house, picking up Newsweek and realizing I've already read everything that interests me, and looking for something to read that I haven't read before. Something other than E. L. Doctorow's March, which is the book I always try to read when I'm out of reading material, and I still haven't been able to get into it.
Eddie laughs at me because he says that when he finishes reading a book, he sets it down with a huge sigh of relief and feels accomplished. He studiously avoids finding another book to tie him down too quickly. I, on the other hand, treat my books like Linus treated his scruffy blue blanket-- I take one everywhere with me. They get toted around the house, around town in my purse, and even in the church bag if I think Gospel Doctrine will be boring (ok, so I'm kidding about that last one). As soon as I finish a book, I have to go to my pile and put my hands on the next one. Maybe it's an illness, but at least it's an educated sort of illness, right?
Anyway, I'm biding my time until the next slew of library reserves comes in (this afternoon, I hope), by reading the book Runner's World publishes for female runners. It's textbook dry and boring, but I think it might be convincing me that I need to run a marathon. Anyone want to be my running partner? We could talk books as we run.
--originally published 7/31/07
No comments:
Post a Comment