Ms. Wishy Washy

I've started more books than I care to admit, finishing only one, Push, by Sapphire, because I watched the movie first and needed to understand the parts that didn't quite make sense. Bleak, depressing novel.

As a counterpoint, I've been trying to read Bill Bryson's The Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid, which is amusing, Haven Kimmel's Something Rising (Light and Swift), which is everything I've come to expect from her, Patti Digh's Life is a Verb, which is affirming and motivational, and Sandra Felton's Living Organized: Proven Steps for a Clutter-Free and Beautiful Home, which is calling out my inner slob, and helping slightly. I can't seem to engage in or finish a single book, I just keep shuffling between them and carrying them around. For months now.

Maybe it's menopause, exhaustion, life, teenagers, ADD, or just a temporary slump. All I know for sure is my to read pile is enormous and not getting any smaller. I just ordered the kindle version of the complete works of the Bronte sisters, plus 2 biographies, poems of T.S. Eliot and Edna St. Vincent Millay, plus some Yeats and Frost and Blake and Dickinson. Damn you, free kindle downloads. I must be crazy.

I hope the summer break will rekindle my reading addiction, and I finish the half-read pile. Until then, no new books. No starting another book. No buying another book. No. No. No.