So my big Spring Beak reading fest is not going as well as I had hoped. I seem to have picked up WAY too many shifts for work - and then I decided that THIS WOULD BE THE WEEK that I finally painted the kitchen...not to mention that I had planned to meet with friends on both Tuesday and Thursday nights (the only days I wasn't working a double).
What the CRAP was I thinking??? I am NOT superman. Apparently I need to repeat this to myself because I am officially stage 4 delusional, thinking I can get everything done that I wanted to by the time my friend A arrives today at about 4. HA.
Sigh. However, I did just finish Three Cups of Tea. It was very good, and I really wish I could do more to help the world's impoverished areas - he is doing an amazing, Nobel Prize-winning thing over there, and he needs all the help he can get. Unfortunately, I have no money - thus all the shifts at work. BUT ANYWAY, the book was good but found myself frustrated at the pace of my reading - not the pace of the book, but of my reading. I'm usually a very fast reader, a skill that helped me get through my English Literature major and History minor at college. I breeze through fiction so quickly that M's head spins (and he gets a wee bit annoyed), but non-fiction trips me up. I don't know what it is...I think that I've just conditioned myself to read fiction faster...maybe? I don't know. All I do know is that it frustrates me when I can't fly through a book. I get bogged down and want to quit, which is WAY LAME.
On a side note, I'm currently enjoying a bowl of fruit loops - my first in years - and THEY ARE DELICIOUS.
Ok - I need to iron for work. =\