I’ve outdone myself. I spent more on books this week than I did on groceries. I figured it didn’t matter if I didn’t eat for a couple of days, but heck, how obnoxious would it be if I had only eight unread books on my bookshelf rather than the 14 I have now?
Did I mention I’m so busy I probably won’t be able to read any of them until December? Or that I now have access to hundreds of free books at the library just down the road?
Sometimes I wonder what’s wrong with me.
A friend of mine brought me a gift from Paris this week. It’s a beautiful notebook with a picture of the Eiffel Tower on top. I figured I’d end up using it for class notes, but it’s so beautiful and has such a great texture that I’m being tempted to start journaling again.
You may remember the Great Computer Crash II of 2008 in which I lost all my journal entries dating back to 2005. I figured it didn’t matter much but something in my subconscious must have snapped, because the last time I journaled was on the plane to America, over two months ago.
Now I’m ready to pick up where I left off. Three pages a day, here I come.
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