The books are read
I had a bit of car trouble yesterday and even though we sorted it out by mid-morning, being over an hour late at work carries the same attendance penalty as missing the whole day. So screw it, I stayed home and read my new books. I had the first two and half of the third read by bedtime. I finished off the third one early this morning. I was reading them rather slowly in an effort to stretch it out, but I can't ever really stretch out a good book... boring books, yes - not too much trouble to set those down and go do a load of laundry instead. I've been known to stay up well past midnight to finish a good book if I have to be at work the next day and don't want to wait to the next evening to see how it ends. But no need to do that last night, since I had the day off today, I was content to stop in the middle, get some sleep and then finish it off this morning over coffee and breakfast. Ah, bliss.

There was a passage in the third book that gave me that deja-vu feeling that I had read it before. Not the book, but just that page and a half. And the odds are good that I really had read that part of the book before because when I browse the bookshelves at the bookstore looking for a book, I will pick several up, open them somewhere in the middle and sample a page of so of the writing before I make a decision which one to buy. Whether that was actually the part I might have read once or just plain old deja-vu, who knows?

And so the books are done, but I'll be reading them again in a few weeks or a few months and I enjoyed that so much, I'm going to track down some of my old books in that back storeroom, the ones that are worth reading again and make sure I set some time aside to do this more often.

An old passion rediscovered; life is good.