It has been known to happen, although, like this month’s solar eclipse, it’s rare. Nothing will hold my attention, but what’s super annoying is I’ve read several books halfway before giving up on them.
Even my gal, Agatha Christie, couldn’t satisfy me, and in the past, she was ‘ol reliable. Like people, I want to give them plenty of redeeming chances. I don’t want to judge too quickly, I try to be patient, but in the end (but not the end, pun intended), it seems like I’ve just wasted time.
I’ve had moments when I’ve felt restless, but this isn’t that kind of energy. It’s more personal. A lot of it has to do with my situation, working full-time, in a new town, teaching third graders in a young school leaves me exhausted by the end of the day.
After work, I understand why folks turn to drink, smoke, or yell at their family. But the thing that makes teaching unique is you have to exercise SELF-CONTROL all day. You also have to make choices, a lot of them, which contributes to fatigue. It’s a special kind of hell.
Sooo, I’m not really interested in reading dark or depressing. To be fair, I never am, but I have been surprised, and I don’t actively avoid heavy stuff. I mean, according to my StoryGraph, I tend to read emotional, adventurous, and reflective. [Sounds like my dating profile]
Anyway, I don’t feel like clocking-back-in when I’m reading in bed, after the kind of draining days I’ve been having. Even if I choose something that looks fun (I’m looking at you City of Brass), it turns out to be world-building information overload that it makes my head feel like school is still in session.
Does it sounds like I’m making excuses? I don’t care. November was a fantastic fat fail. I could have pretended this didn’t happen and not have bothered to post, but I didn’t, did I? I owned up to trying, then tossing my Kindle on the bed.
Remember the old days when you could blame everything on the weather?
“My _____ hurt. Must be the weather.”
“The _____ is slow. Must be the weather.”
Traffic. Dinner’s late. Bad breath. Acne flare-ups. Butterflies in stomach. You forgot your keys. They’re not calling back. You missed the bank. I challenge you to think of of anything that can’t be blamed on the weather.
Nowadays, we blame everything on Covid-19, so that’s my excuse. Why can’t I finish a book? Because of Covid.
And could I also get a raincheck while I’m at it? Cheers.
How was your November reading? (Opportunity to brag!) Have you ever gone through a reading drought?