Today — less than an hour ago, in fact — I acquired a list of books written by Southern authors, and I have challenged myself to read all items on the list.
The list enumerates 18 books, so my “one a month” theory is gone. (Librarians stink at math, but even I, illiterate in math, know I have 12 months each year in which to read.)
Thus, I changed “one a month” to “one every three weeks” but ‘cept I have to read one a week for the last three weeks — no matter that it’s the middle of the Christmas season (I’ll have loads of extra time; always do; I read best under pressure) — but we’re now firmly ensconced within the fourth week of the year, so one hour in, I’m already a week behind in my self-applied challenge.
And while finding copies of the shortest of the Southern Titles list to read quickly so as to get back on track with my challenge, I found 44 more books I want to read.
Which kind of pushed my self-inflicted reading-palooza out the door…
So now my NEW challenge for this, the second hour, is to get myself back on track for my FIRST challenge.
Whew. I’m exhausted and I haven’t even swiped a page.
“Why a SEAHORSE?” you might wonder…because my favorite author was a Southern writer who wrote often of the beach, the water, the tide…don’t remember him mentioning a seahorse, but they’re such perfect critters that I’m sure he thought fondly of them. And I thought fondly of him. Thus, the seahorse.
Makes perfect sense.
