Too Bad

January 8, 2010 · 0 comments

I’m doing it again.  Reading.  Fiction.  Science fiction, to be exact.

And I’m enjoying it.

It’s 12:28 and I’m struggling to write this because I want to get back to my book.  This doesn’t bode well, dear reader.  I’ve things to accomplish and I’m not sure that I won’t get sucked in to this novel until I’ve finished it.  I’ve been late to work every day this week – which is not so unusual – even though I’ve been making it to bed by around this time.  Which implies, of course, that I really should be getting to bed around midnight or earlier.

Right now, my mind is whirling on in attempt to justify another half an hour, another chapter, another 20 pages before bed.  My eyes are scratchy and that’s what I’m thinking about, even as I’m typing this.

No, this won’t do at all.  My pale green “fresh bamboo”-scented candle burns on my desk and the aroma is soothing in its pleasantness.  The two shaded incandescent lights at opposite ends of my apartment – one next to my chair and one over my bed – are lit and, combined with the ambered pine floors beneath the rugs and the angles of my ceiling impart a feeling that cannot be described as other than cozy.  Gemütlich, even.

No, I’ve no desire to leave this place for work tomorrow at all.


Leave a Comment

Previous post:

Next post: