it was a dark and stormy night..

I made a remark a couple of times the past few days, but the thought has bugged me for a long time. It's a guilt that every once in a while pokes me, whether I am idle or busy. And while I really want to just do it so that I could ease the uneasiness, I don't. It's maddening.

It's like this: You see, I haven't been reading. Or rather, I have not completed a book in at least five months. FIVE LONG DRY MONTHS. I've been conveniently distracted (most recently by you-know-who wink*wink); but it's just an excuse I guess. I started a few books, but as of now I've no idea where they are. I'm sure they miss me. The stack of books from the last big bad wolf sale sits forlornly on my couch, ignored, unloved. And I can't buy new books without that condemning voice in my head jeering at me. Woe is me!

I really miss those nights being curled up in my reading chair, turning pages until sleep won over my consciousness. I miss having wonderful images and a movie unfolding in my head as I thumb the pages. I miss the excitement and sense of achievement of updating my read list each time I flip the last page of a book. I miss the feel of a book in my hand. I miss reading.

...

*bangs imaginery table*

This will not do! Rawr!! (Or should that be a meek meow? Haha!)

By Cap'n Hook or crook, I will finish a book by month end or Bob is not my uncle!! Rawr!!