I have rarely been this busy or stressed. Last summer was a bad one, work-wise, and was pretty consistantly awful, but for most of the time, it was just a pervasive sense of grinding despair, and you slogged along through the mud, dragging your metaphorical pick-axe behind you. This is frenetic, rushing and jittering, working like a woman with a caffine addiction and possibly a cocaine addiction, when I never indulge in either. I am unable to concentrate on work because of other work that is distracting me.
And what this means is that I have a big sloggy pile of mush between my ears. And what that means is that I'm having terrible time concentrating on the beautiful, slow, thoughtful and spiritual book I'm trying to read. Gilead needs attention and thoughts. I just can't do it. I'm so sorry, Renegade folks. I'm sorry for myself, too, because I was so excited to read this book.
Instead I'm reading Baggage, which is definitely chick lit (picture of a woman's torso wearing jeans and a pink shirt that exposes her belly button on the cover. totally unrelated to the story, except possibly the focus on the belly relating to the fact that the main character is pregnant; seems like a stretch). That's on the T--at my bedside I'm reading Protecting the Gift, which is by the author of The Gift of Fear and is about raising children who trust their instincts and can protect themselves from danger. Really I just thought his first book was interesting, and this was the other one he wrote; I'm reading it to recapture the pleasure of the first one. He also wrote one about terrorism, but I'm skeptical about reading it.
Oh, and I just finished 84, Charing Cross Road, a charming little compilation of 20 years of letters between a funny lady in NewYork and the London bookshop where she orders all her books, starting right after WWII. It was just so funny and sweet and you wish you could meet all those people and be that clever. It is a perfect example of Lynne's whole person that she would know about this book, love it, and lend it to me.
And I borrowed Middlesex and Black Water (from Beth and Jo, respectively) last night. I'm excited to read both of those, too, though I hope work unwinds soon, because I could use more energy and attention for the things that are really important.