Here is my unread library set up. I would put it next to the bed, but it’s not in my face enough. As it is now, I have to walk past this little green secretary piled with books every day several times a day. I admit, I occasionally give my little friends a pat of encouragement as I pass.
There are now only 44 books in my library because last night–drum roll, please–I finished book No. 37, The Story of Edgar Sawtelle. In your face, Wroblewski!
Sure, it took me the better part of 18 months, but like a dog with a bone (plot reference absolutely intended) I hunkered down for the long haul and didn’t give up. Hamlet much, Dave? Sheesh.
Now it’s time to pick the next one. I might take the night off, but, as The Mister says, I’m already crazy. Why not plow ahead and act insane? With that in mind, I’m thinking I might read No. 42, Water for Elephants.
First of all, elephants.
Second of all, the movie is coming out and Robert Pattinson is in it. Normally, this wouldn’t be much of a draw, attracted as I am to humans who bathe and clean under their nails, but I saw him in some publicity stills for the Eclipse premier looking like he practiced responsible hygiene. His hair was short. Combed, even. I was intrigued. He looked handsome in a ‘maybe if he was ten years older, but not if he ages like Leonardo DiCaprio’ kind of way. I knew that respectable, showered appearance had to be for a part in a new movie. That, or the world had spun of its axis and was careening towards its fiery end. Thank goodness it was the former! It gives me more time to read.