Today i find myself picking up a book i've been meaning to read forever, The Kiss by Kathryn Harrison. I have the hard cover version - i must've rushed to Barnes & Noble before the paperback came out in 1998, before my Amazon days. I know this is true because I made the purchase shortly after I read The End of Alice by A.M. Holmes, the paperback version of which was published in 1997.
I can't believe it's been that long! As i sit down to read and find myself engrossed in no time, i think maybe it's been 5 years, tops, since i read a book for pleasure. [Note the 2 remotes sans the 1 beverage i mentioned in my last blog. : ) ]
I think, heck, i can sit and read all day. All of a sudden i notice how beautiful my light-infused living room is. Man, i have a living room! Wasn't much of a living room before... I'm not even concerned about lunch at the moment, and it's past noon - very unlike me. Who would've thought a mere sofa could engender so much sanity and tranquility? Therapy, schmerapy. My sofa will anchor and sustain me.
On the other hand, singing praises for a piece of furniture - yeah, that's normal.
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