I’m hip-deep in unread and partially read books. Normally I wallow happily in such a morass. Today instead I’m feeling more inundated and borderline panicked.
The release date for event books, books I’ve waited months or years for often clump. At least it seems so. When I reserve them at the library they always seem to come in the same day. Or a long-expected book and a book that caught my eye in a reference in some article or other. I can reserve them months apart. They still await me at the library on the same damn day.
Not unwelcome, these books, just inconvenient. Like a good friend dropping by when you are right in the middle of something: you’ve got three skillets sizzling and a pot boiling, all moments away from final assembly. Or the show you are watching is nearing the climax and the murderer is about to stand revealed. And Joe chooses to drop by now?
These books are on top of those I’ve purchased. I’ve had a run of finding gold among the dross at used bookstores. Good deals, but they are beginning to pile up. I’m soon going to be able to add on a guest room built of yellowing paperbacks.
None of this would normally trouble me. Quite the opposite. But there are more urgent works demanding my eyeballs: a couple of baby rearing books and assorted pamphlets on individual aspects of the care, feeding, hygiene, and maintenance of infants. And these are pressing for my attention. The clock is ticking, people. My progeny is due to pop anytime in the next few weeks whether I’ve finished studying up or not.
So that’s enough time writing for today. I’ve got to hit the books.