The flies flew south, but there are still flaws in the ointment.
At 3 AM, weary of reading Robert K. Massie's endless accounts (the final hundred pages of his "Catherine The Great" bring Xenon's paradox to mind) of the unacceptable number (unacceptable to Massie by implication) of very young men decrepit old brilliant Catherine the Great took to bed, I found myself reaching for Pratchett's Dodger with no intention of climbing on the scale first.
Dishonored, knuckles dragging, I realize it is time for me to reserve a room in the Northernmost Edge of Siberia Home For The Hopelessly Self- indulgent. Good-bye cruel world.
Part B: after the comments
I commit most of my most mindless errors of appetite either in bed with a book, or in bed with a book while driving a car. For almost a year, I have been reading for escape - riding the same wave as someone hooked on soap operas and bonbons. Not Pretty. Nor is it a good sign when I am a member of the Book A Day Club. That means I am not hiking, or painting, or cleaning, or gardening, or helping anyone here in home-sweet-Appalachia learn to read or write, nor nothin' else worth writing home to the folks about. Probably all I am doing is going to the lye-berry, checking out as many novels as my book bag will hold, cruising the grocery and going home. And I have done all of those things while wearing my pajamas and a raincoat. When I hit the skids, I backslide with the big boys, hon!
It is also time for me to stop making jokes about this. Failing to meet my goals for the day is one thing. Using that small failure as a way to get positive attention through quasi-humorous writing - well, I can get into escapist writing just as quickly as I can get into escapist reading. I apologize. I deserve better than that. So do you.
If I have decided to ditch the easy-reads for a bit - that's OK. If I have to earn the privilege of actually reading something of substance, if I have to work to get to read and use 16 ounces as the unit of fair exchange for that book, rather than 50 bucks an hour or whatever... that is not a bad thing. I am not being mean or even hard on myself. My spark has been sputtering. I have not been walking the talk. A change in my routine is overdue.
I love working. I just got out of the habit, that's all. % )
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