I swear, sometimes I think Good Morning America just WANTS to turn me into a nervous wreck. I’ve only had the TV on for about fifteen minutes, but they’ve already had segments on how dangerous it is to walk in parking lots (bring a whistle, people get attacked all the time) how hot dogs and deli meat can cause cancer (drop that sandwich!) and, of course, how this heat will kill us all in the end. Man. I wonder if one reason I was so relaxed when I was on vacation was that I wasn’t watching the news all the time, or reading the paper. Maybe ignorance is bliss. Hmmm.
I DID read a lot of books while I was away, and came home to even more stacked up waiting for me here at home. Summer really is the best reading season, isn’t it? When I’m vacationing, I personally like a bit of chick lit. So on the way up, during a long day of planes and buses and rental cars, I was reading Wendy Holden’s Gossip Hound (although not, of course, when I myself was driving. But you do sometimes see people reading and driving. Who DOES that? It’s insane. But I digress). Once at the Cape, I picked up The Other Woman, the latest in paperback from Jane Green, which was a light, frothy read, perfect for the beach (especially when you’re being interrupted every five seconds by little cousins saying “Aunt Sarah! Look at this hermit crab! Aunt Sarah! Watch me jump!”, etc).
I also read The Virgin Suicides, which I’d been wanting to get to forever, and it did NOT disappoint. So clever, and uniquely written, and of course now I have to see the movie, as well. When I got home, I found Alex McCaulay’s latest, Lost Summer, waiting for me, which is exciting as well. But best of ALL is that at the Brewster Bookstore I found an Anne Tyler book, Breathing Lessons, that I am almost positive I haven’t read yet. Which is, like, discovering lost seasons of 90210 AND Veronica Mars AND Gilmore Girls, all rolled up into one. So exciting.
And of course there are still even more books waiting. It’s a good thing it is so hot. If it wasn’t, I might actually feel kind of guilty about staying inside all day, under the fan, reading. As it is, it’s like it’s necessary. If not required. Right?