Sometimes a book makes me stop reading.
Not because it’s terrible.
Not even because it’s amazing.
Just because I finish it and want to keep reading that same book.
But because I don’t have another space memoir/history of clogging tome/literary novel about cherries available, I can wander away from books.
There are many upsides to my time away from books.
I am almost caught up on How I Met Your Mother.
Only 80% of my body is sore from last weekend’s Zombie 5K.
(Have no fear, a post is coming as soon as I steal the photos.)
My entryway has once again been painted.
(7th time is always the charm, right?)