...is that I'll never read another book again. What with all the blogs I skim on a daily basis, all the political coverage to which I am riveted, I haven't read a book in I don't know how long. Plus there's the baseball postseason to follow.
But I'm working on the whole "book" thing. I'm easing back in with light fiction, such as "The Lust Lizard of Melancholy Cove" by Christopher Moore, which is by the bed and of which I have actually read, oh, 40 pages. (I'm not reading it in French, but I loved the thought of reading it in French, hence the image.)
In days of yore, a book such as this would have been finished by now and long since. But no. A couple of pages a day. Perhaps because I'm only used to reading in short bits and spurts. It's rather pathetic.
Someday I shall read again. It may require an intervention or a power outage, but I do believe that one day I shall read again. Though probably not in French.