Why would you apologize for what you read for pleasure? Every book read for pleasure should be celebrated. And novels that celebrate love, commitment, relationships, making relationships work -- why isn't that something to be respected? - Nora Roberts
I Tweet not, neither do I Like. OK, so now I Tweet. So sue me.
Here we may criticize the book, but never the one who reads it.
Proud supporter of the Oxford comma, and any other comma I can wedge into a sentence.
Authors: You are welcome to comment here, on the review of your book or any other post.
Monday, April 27, 2015
I have reached last straw stage. It's almost funny. We adopted - over the phone and via third party - so I'm very much at fault here - what we thought was going to be a 6 month old stray kitten, healthy. It turned out to be a 1-2 year old feral cat with some treatable health problems. (At least it didn't turn out to be a rabid porcupine.) I do not have the energy to socialize a feral just now. I helped a friend do it some years back and know how much work it is. It's not a matter of letting them find their way, it's much more complex than that if it's to be successful. Cat is still under the bed, 24 hours without water intake or litter use, growls and tries to bite if approached.
This became my last straw and I had a complete meltdown last night. Couldn't think, couldn't reason, couldn't stop crying.
But it's been coming on for awhile. I find that I can't think straight half the time, can't remember things, can't find my way through simple problems. My I.Q has fallen by 80 points. Part of this is sleep deprivation. I'm lucky to sleep three hours a night. Mostly though I'm just so damned tired of being brave all the time. I have no more energy to be cheerful and optimistic when every aspect of my life has imploded.
This is carrying over into my reading. I can't seem to finish a book. I've been re-reading some books but find myself skimming even old favorites. I don't have an opinion about the books I have finished. It's all - oh Jesus I almost said shades of gray. Yikes.
I'm not depressed, not hopeless or helpless, but I am very, very sad, and just worn out. I'm used up. What energy I have needs to go to Mr. Bat, who is ... well, he's dying, but his quality of life is improved now, a bit. He still needs care 24/7 and can't be left alone. Pretty soon I'm going to have to see if someone from palliative care can spell me two hours a week so I can get a haircut or see the dentist.
So once again I'm going on hiatus. From blogging, from Twitter, from a few websites and blogs I still follow. For his sake, I'm walking away. I cannot continue to scatter my limited resources.
Your friendship and support have meant the world to me. You got me through some very dark and scary days. Thank you for listening to me bitch and moan and whine. Thank you for your prayers and positive energy. But I'm just ... tapped.
May your next book be a keeper.
Wednesday, April 15, 2015
Friday, April 10, 2015
ETA 4-26-15: This was a 2012 RITA award winner for best first book. So there you go.