I've known since last week that this one would be busier than usual: meetings with several potential reverse mortgage lenders, a lot of reverse mortgage homework, some plumbing work here to oversee and several other obligations – in addition to the usual chores and errands and TGB work.
Even while recognizing it could cut into the time I needed for other things, on Sunday I began reading a novel that from reviews and recommendations, I could pretty well guess would be unputdownable (if you'll forgive the nonce word). And I wasn't wrong.
Mage of Postcards: Sorry, no review of The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo except to say if you like well-plotted mysteries or police precedurals with a couple of fairly compelling protagonists and writing that in some places is good enough to make you jealous, go for it. It's much better than most summer reads.
Pat Temiz: I'm glad I haven't bought the other two books in the series. If so, I'd have to give up the blog for the next week or two. I'll get the second one only when I know I have a couple of free days.
It's been so long since I've read a novel that I had forgotten how much fun it is to lose yourself (“drown” as Ashleigh Burrows of The Burrow aptly puts it) in a long, compelling story. I read a lot of non-fiction – aging-related, politics, history – and I enjoy them, but putting them down isn't difficult like a page-turner of a novel.
While having a great, good time reading and simultaneously feeling guilty about ignoring TGB over the past two days, I could almost hear my mother saying, as she so often did when I was kid, “Ronni, put down that book and go outside. Go ride your bike.”
In those days, I'd sneak the book with me and as soon as I was out of sight of home, I'd sit under a tree and continue reading. Maybe that's why I have never disliked rainy days – they are good excuses to stay in and read.
It hasn't changed; I've always been that way. When I'd grown up and couldn't wait to find out what happens next in a book, I do the minimum I could get away with at work without screwing up anything, then shut my office door and read. (This is, of course, before some jackass invented cubicles.)
At least once, I stayed up all night to finish a good book and then called in sick to work so I could sleep during the day. Most of the time, after an all-night reading binge, I dragged myself into the office, but for all that got done, I might as well have stayed home.
Always, my happiest kind of vacation has been to take a stack of books to wherever I was going. Let others wear themselves out traipsing through every ancient castle in the vicinity or studying every painting in the city's museums. That goes only so far with me, then I want to lie back in a comfortable chair, put up my feet and lose myself in a book. Now THAT'S a holiday.
I think I'll assign a week not too far in the future as my vacation, shut down the computer for the duration and read the rest of the Stieg Larsson trilogy.
At The Elder Storytelling Place today, Jerry Rasmussen: T-Shirt Testimony