I am fully aware that I am about to admit to huge levels of word nerditude. I embrace it.
Lately, I have been having this nightmare. It literally keeps me up at night. Will I be able to finish reading all the books I want to read, all the books I put on hold at the library, all the special orders before we leave. This list is endless. I blame my cousin Ryan for introducing me to the goodreads app which keeps showing me more and more books that I should read. I blame EW and the New York Times book review (will you judge me knowing that EW is more influential than the NYT on my book choices?). I blame Natalie for making me love YA literature. But no matter where I put the blame, it doesn’t look too good for me.
At this point, there is a book in close to every room in this house that I am in the middle of. Can’t risk wasting reading time. (Currently: The Fault in our Stars by John Green. Setting the Table by Danny Meyer. Out of the Depths by Rabbi Lau. Hunting Eichmann by Neal Bascomb. Once We Were Brothers by Ronald Balson. The Interestings by Meg Wolitzer and Spousonomics by Paula Szuchman.)
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