So, last year this week, it was hot much like it is this week now! I was just starting the Jane Smiley Last Hundred Years trilogy. I still need to read that last book.
I was reading a book of short stories by Sylvia Townsend Warner. I am reading a book of short stories by an Australian writer this year (though my short story reading is wonky in general at the moment), which I will be writing about as soon as I finish the last few stories.
I had just finished that epic Ken Follett drama, Fall of Giants, and curiously I have lately been thinking of picking up the second book of the trilogy now.
Lucky me as I was thinking and planning for my trip to Colorado, which I will not unfortunately be making this summer (staycation-city for me . . . I will have to depend on my reading for a change of scenery).
My library finds are still as generous this year as they were last (I see only one book of that pile which I have since read . . .).
Hmm. I was feeling restless and as though life was quite lackluster then. I still feel it today, but here I am plodding along. Not quite feeling as pressured perhaps as last year. Maybe just more resigned to life as it is at the moment (or more likely just drained by the oppressive heat and humidity) but that restlessness is still in the back of my mind.
Maybe it is time to think of the second half of the year as this month is speeding along? Dare I take a photo of my current reads on my nightstand right now? (And dare I tell you how many of those books went back to the shelves unread?). Must be the July/midyear/tired of the heat doldrums. An annual event it would seem.