Hello to everyone in book world! I'm currently reading a selection from T.M. titled Life Would Be Perfect If I Lived in That House by Meghan Daum. It's a memoir about Daum's house lust from childhood to middle age. So far, so good. I also have to read Patrick Smith's A Land Remembered for a book club. Smith's novel is a Florida classic (I hear, though I've never read it) about the state in its early natural glory. With the oil spill still spewing, who knows how this will change. I should read my son's summer reading books (one being Tangerine by Edward Bloor) so I can quiz him at the end of the summer (very surreptitiously, of course) to see if he really read it or just skimmed. Really, it's the old saw about the shoemaker's children--they have no shoes, and the librarian's son hates to read. Oh well. I won't give up on him. I've always felt that one of life's greatest joys is reading, and this child, springing from two families of avid readers, doesn't have a chance at being a-literate. Or at least I hope so.
Undone housework bothers me. Unwritten thank you notes, unpaid bills, unchecked email, you name it, all these things nibble on my psyche. Unread books? No way. A pile of unread books is pound cake and three days off plus a really killer manicure.
A stack of unread books is one of life's luxuries.