So … I”m exhausted this Monday morning. Bone tired. Eyes barely open. And not because I’m Asian and my eyes are never wide open. Nope. My stupid fire alarm has been beeping every 20 minutes since 3:30 AM Sunday morning. There’s no fire (Thank God) or smoke. It’s not a low battery. Or dust or a creepy crawly disrupting the sensor (well, I don’t think so) but it appears from my diligent (aka frantic) research at 4:00 AM that my fire alarm is just at its end of life. I would like to take a hammer to it and speed up its demise.
2019! You’re finally here! Thank you sweet baby Jesus! 2018 was not my best year if I’m being honest. No recap because more things sucked than did not suck (apparently I was not the only one who experienced this either). And I am, generally speaking, a glass half-full kind of girl. But not last year. Nope. Last year sucked and I have no desire to relive it.
C’mon, you know the song, right? Or am I just old? And possibly have bad music tastes too. Don’t judge! Nah, I’m cool being a nerd. I’m already a book nerd, might as well be a music nerd too! Since I traditionally use a song in the title of my annual best of books post, I chose Roxette beause I loved many, many books this year. And sure, sure, the next line in the song is “But it’s over now”, which also felt sadly appropriate. My love affair with books took a hit this year, but I still love them.
Whoa. I can’t believe Christmas is next week and 2019 is just days away. To be fair, I’m pretty excited for 2019 because 2018 wasn’t all that awesome. It was a weird year, right? Both fast and painfully slow. A slow-moving train wreck that you cannot escape, even though you keep wailing that you want off right now! Or was that just me screaming?
Oh, the weather outside is not very frightful. Nah. It’s sunny and high 60’s which is cold to some Californians. Not me. Well, not normally me. But I won’t lie, people: the heater has been briefly turned on twice this month. I’m not proud but running around shivering is stupid too. Thus, it’s official now: I’m a California wimp.
Reading isn’t about quantity for me (I set no yearly reading goals) but enjoyment, and sometimes you go through a dry patch where nothing appeals to you. Murder? Nope. Ghosts and goblins? Nah. Chuckles galore? Uh-uh. Ooey gooey love story? Groddy to the max. Something enlightening or inspiring? Errrr … okay, I’ll try it. But I won’t promise to like it or read it. Maybe I’ll just pet the book lovingly and eventually read a page if I’m feeling feisty.