- Razzle Dazzle Unicorn by Dana Simpson
- These Happy Golden Years by Laura Ingalls Wilder
- Frederica by Georgette Heyer
- The Grand Sophy by Georgette Heyer
- Bridget Jones’s Baby by Helen Fielding
- Gooseberries by Anton Chekov
Way back in the long, long ago (August), I made myself a list that I called “Get Through the TBR Plan. At the time I was thinking a lot about the same thing I’m thinking about now: What is the fastest, most efficient way to dig myself out of my library hole before the baby comes? It was a very complicated list. I alternated between the shortest books and the books that I have had out the longest. (I have a problem with cheating the system, you know. It’s shameful and I fully intend to change it. Later.) What I ended up with was a list of 21 books and a plan to read them.
Honestly, the list could use a little redoing at this point. I’ve checked out a couple more books since then and I actually sent one back without reading it because I had a moment of sanity and realized I’m generally insane. Then there were those new releases I got that I had to read right away and that graphic novel that was really just a quick read. In fact, I WILL rework the list. I added to my to-do list.
My point is that right now I am reading a very short book. I am reading a 90 page book, to be exact, and I am 20 pages in. I had all of the best intentions of actually reading the whole thing yesterday but shit happens. All kinds of shit happens. Upsets and laundry happen. To do lists happen. Addictive phone games happen. (Riddle Stones, you guys. Riddle Stones. I dreamed in grids I played it so much this weekend.) I’m neither giving excuses nor holding myself accountable.
Because we are in the final stretch of the year. There are only 34 days left this year. I cannot remember what my resolutions were and I don’t care. 2016 has been pretty fucking horrible and I think a lot of people agree with me. My cat died. David Bowie died. A lot of the things that I felt pretty okay about on a daily basis have pretty much exploded, leaving me disillusioned and fucking tired. I’m fucking tired you guys. And I’m over here gestating and looking at the ruins of the world and trying to figure out what the hell I can do to make things better FOR ME.
I’ve got enough going on. I’m not going to stress about my reading. No, I am going to enjoy it. Because, honestly, I have not been enjoying many things lately. Sure, there have been bright spots: a good meal, a fun game, the movie Mascots. It’s just that there is so much going on that I haven’t allowed myself enough joy. Well, no more, my friends! Starting today, starting this morning, I am turning over a new leaf.
And when Santa squeezes his fat white ass down that chimney tonight, he’s gonna find the jolliest bunch of assholes this side of the nuthouse!