Meet my neighbour Cece the Hemingway cat, a new friend of mine.
It’s late. I want to be in bed. Not under the covers mind you, because it’s too bloody hot in here, but laying on top with the fan sending moving air in my general direction. It’ll feel good to just shut my eyes for a few hours. This means I won’t be posting those pictures I’ve been mentioning, at least not tonight. That requires more work and time than I can put in right now. Another thing which is almost guaranteed is that I won’t be reading myself to sleep either, the way I usually like to do. I’ve been more or less on a ‘reading strike’ for the past couple of weeks. Not so much because I don’t want to read, quite the contrary. But for one thing, there are all kinds of other things I want to be doing, like working on my puzzle and starting up my Art Nouveau colouring project, to name just those two. Mainly though, it’s because I’ve decided I must read a book that was sent to me via the Early Reviewers program I participate in, and that I must read it now. Publishers choose to send books to those reviewers who actually post reviews about the books they’ve sent them. If you skip even one review, then you’re more or less put on the black list. Which is fair enough. This last book I got, called Annie’s Ghosts, talks about mental illness and a sibling who was carted off to the mental ward and declared dead or made to disappear and never having existed (not sure which). Written by the much younger sibling who was considered mentally well adjusted who of course eventually mangaged to put it all together. Sounds interesting, which is why I ordered it to begin with, but with all the stories about and around mental illness that I hear every day, plus my own daily struggles to find balance and some sense of order, I can’t begin to imagine why I thought I would want to read this book. I’ve tried to reach a compromise by telling myself I’d read just 50 to 100 pages and then choose to write my review based on that—or finish it, but I can’t motivate myself to even crack it open. It’s so frustrating because meanwhile, I’ve got hundreds of book (ok, maybe just many dozens…), excellent books that I’m highly motivated to read, just lying around collecting dust in the meantime.
To put everything into perspective: if that’s my biggest problem right now, then it must mean things are going pretty well for me. And after reflection, I can quietly say yes, I guess they are… but I’m afraid to actually believe it, because then, who knows when the other shoe will drop? :-O
p.s. Damn. Now it’s 1:55 a.m. and I just realized I wanted to talk about something different altogether, namely my fascinating new friend Friedrich whom I sometimes run into at a favourite café on Tuesday afternoons… another time.