lé sigh...

I’ve started reading again. Nothing cerebral, mostly romance (der) and science fiction and science fiction romance (my favorite). I haven’t read anything in about three months and it’s been a long time it seems since I’ve been able to finish a book; I have three half-read books on my bathroom sink that are getting warped from the water splashing when Laine brushes her teeth. I don’t necessarily care that I’ll probably never finish reading those books and that bugs the crap out of me. I used to read intellectually stimulating things, I read classics and mysteries and biographies and things that would stretch my mind and teach my something but for the last few years I haven’t read one book that didn’t have a shirtless man on the front cover. I’m not really complaining about it I don’t think, I’m just a little worried that I’ve lost my drive to learn and grow. I mean I care that the things I read are fluff but I don't care enough to change it up. I also don’t have the time to sit and be engrossed in a story. Part of my issue is I need to be able to put what I’m doing do with no time to fold down a page corner or place a bookmark. The things I read now it really doesn’t matter if I know my place or not, one page is pretty much the same as the next. All heaving and throbbing and ‘can’t tell where he ends and I begin’ and ‘my lady your ankle is showing’ and ‘no matter what we’ll always be together’.
I’m not going to change it I guess, but I wouldn’t mind mixing it up. Like maybe a historical romance.