(no subject)

My reading faculty seems to be out of whack. I have been unable to pick up and settle on a book for the last half week or so, which is maddening, and not my usual experience. desayunoencama wrote an entry about finishing and enjoying a trilogy of Robin Hobb's and so I thought, ok, I'll re-read Wizard of the Pigeons. I enjoyed that one. I took it with me to work, and started it, and it's well-written and all, but I couldn't get into it. Once Wizard started getting upset because he feels MIR is threatening him, the urge to close the book was irresistable. My attention wanted to skitter away. I realized, thinking about it, that I didn't want to read about anyone being upset. I want to sink mindlessly into a book, to have my attention shunted away from my boring job and the dark days around me, without asking anything of me that it unpleasant. Once I figured this out, I felt pretty disgusted with myself for my own intellectual laziness.

Days are getting brighter. Hopefully this won't be a problem for long.

Very cold again today.

Must find and try another book. Goodness knows we have enough to choose from in our house. But it is very unusual for me to have such difficulty deciding upon and settling on a book. *Sigh* An unpleasant and unfamiliar feeling.

I probably better use the light box again today.