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?)