I spent yesterday flopping around the house and reading; it was the perfect sick day.
Sick days are a luxury for me; I give myself permission to slow down and rest. I consider My Parasitic Twin to be my life coach when it comes to relaxing. She has mad skillz in that department.
And as usual Scheissehund had my back.
To be completely honest, I don’t have so much work to do. I can take a day off, I’m not so important that I can’t take a day to revel in a good book. Most of my stress is self-imposed.
The Summer Guest is a shattering book, it’s all about loss: the loss of a parent, the loss of a spouse, the loss of a child, one’s own quickly approaching death.Yet it is imbued with such humanity and perspective, as if the writer has had many, many years to come to terms with the various tragedies and see them from a distance. It expresses how one moves forward but never completely moves on, the pain dulls and recedes but is always there. It’s heartbreaking and gorgeous.
A criticism I see popping up in amateur reviews is that Justin Cronin is wordy, but I love words. Words are the point of literature, right?
My favorite book is Love in the Time of Cholera, another “wordy” book, another book that takes the long view on life. Of all the writers I’ve read, Cronin reminds me the most of Gabriel Garcia Márquez. Their styles are vastly different but there is a detached – but not apathetic – wisdom in both of their writings. A feeling of this, too shall pass. Both are books to be savored, not to be gotten through.
I have to make space on my shelf reserved for favorite books, the ones I like to go back to when I need comfort and solace.
I have 767 posts on my blog; I want to get to 800 this year. Posting about books is my new favorite thing so it shouldn’t be hard. Sideboob started off as a book blogger in Norway, I can see why she did it.
She’s on a three week tour of the midwest, she sends me snaps of her adventures. I miss her. I miss the way she calls me and asks if I am busy right now and then pops over.
Mr. Bates was being a right fucker this morning. He sidled up to my desk to mack on me and I thought I could surreptitiously turn on my macbook’s video recorder to get the perfect cat-butt perspective. As per usual, he denied me.
I’m feeling better today and am going to plug into podcasts and Amy Schumer stand-up while I go through the boys’ closet, AKA my closet because I am STILL sharing a closet with two boys yet Loony has two entire closets that are stuffed with his shit.
I wish I had Shé here, not because I need her help but because I miss her and would love to spend a day with her.