No big deal. Or it shouldn’t be. Lately, however, for me, it is.
I’ve lost the ability to read again so actually finishing something truly is a very big deal. Huge! And it only took me two and a half months to accomplish it. Pathetic since the book was a Sarah Graves, part of the Home Repair is Homicide series which I adore. Should have taken a day or two.
I started another one, a Rita Mae Brown, Mrs. Murphy mystery. Another series that feels like an old friend and should be a quick, happy read. Only it isn’t. I started it four days ago. Read ten pages the first day. Sat and held the book without opening it the next two. Couldn’t make myself pick it up the fourth day.
Sigh. I have literally thousands as in perhaps twelve to thirteen thousand books. There’s no way I’ll live long enough to read them all. I was pushing it when I read several books a week but now I don’t stand a chance. That thought makes me very, very sad.
I used to love to read. I still love to shop for books. Books used to be my friends. Now? They don’t seem to like me much. And I don’t know what happened to change that. Sorry. I have to go cry again.
I’ve lost the ability to read again so actually finishing something truly is a very big deal. Huge! And it only took me two and a half months to accomplish it. Pathetic since the book was a Sarah Graves, part of the Home Repair is Homicide series which I adore. Should have taken a day or two.
I started another one, a Rita Mae Brown, Mrs. Murphy mystery. Another series that feels like an old friend and should be a quick, happy read. Only it isn’t. I started it four days ago. Read ten pages the first day. Sat and held the book without opening it the next two. Couldn’t make myself pick it up the fourth day.
Sigh. I have literally thousands as in perhaps twelve to thirteen thousand books. There’s no way I’ll live long enough to read them all. I was pushing it when I read several books a week but now I don’t stand a chance. That thought makes me very, very sad.
I used to love to read. I still love to shop for books. Books used to be my friends. Now? They don’t seem to like me much. And I don’t know what happened to change that. Sorry. I have to go cry again.
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