Why thank you kind people who anticipate a new blog post.
Creating my own anticipation here. I ordered a pile of books from Amazon and the joy of having them in a stack on the table, is almost better than actually reading them.
Firstly, I do have unread books on my shelves, books I fully intend to read but not right now. Some which I have started but they haven’t ‘spoken’ to me, so I have had to put them back.
Before I went to Canada I didn’t have anything that I was hanging out to read, dying to read. There were a few titles I was interested in but they all seemed to take 3 weeks through Amazon, and while I love anticipation I also want ‘fairly immediate’ gratification.
I will go a long period of time without reading any fiction, then suddenly I’ll be introduced somehow to a ‘new’ ( to me) author, then I’ll read everything that author has ever written, one after the other, back to back. Then back to themed non-fiction, gardening, human trafficking, Thai prisons, Law of Attraction, Everest, etc.
Then suddenly by word of mouth, or reviews I’ve read, I’ll start a list in my mind and order a mega load.
My need for ‘fairly immediate’ gratification means I only order a lot at once if they in stock and will be delivered very quickly. I’ll put in other orders for 1-3 books and maybe dvds when it takes ’10-14′ days to deliver.
I always order COD and I am on first name terms with ‘Shigeru-san’ the delivery man.
So my order came, and I have a wonderful stack of books sitting on the table, just waiting for me to dig in.
The feeling is so sweet, I like to prolong it, get the cleaning up done first, a big clean, nothing superficial, I want conditions for digging in to be perfect. A hot bath, clean PJs. A good cup of coffee.
This particular time, to prolong things even more, I decided to paint Kev and Jim’s room before I rewarded myself, before getting my treats.
So the past 2 days, while The Man took the boys camping, real camping, tent and latrines, gas lamps and build your own fire rubbing both boys together camping, I painted their room.
I could have gone camping with them, I was invited, but I refused on the grounds I am not frickin insane, why, why would I go, when I can stay here, cuddling and canoodling with my new books, with my internet access, Prison Break,
flushing toilet and hot baths. No thanks honey. You go, you bond in the woods with your boys, I would be superfluous to requirements. We camped a lot as kids with my Dad, real camping, with heavy heavy tents and tent poles and tent pegs and the like, none of these lightweight, super long snap open tent poles .
Now, I should mention , my Dad was a wonderful man in many ways, he was a great Dad, very funny, but he was military. Need I say more?
Camping as a family was akin to a miltary manoeuvre, heavy on the precision, light on the spontaneity.
We built our own campfires, washed our dishes in sand, brushed out teeth in the river, and woe betide anyone who didn’t have fun.
I have no need to re-live it, only prozac and intense therapy are keeping the nightmares away as it is.
So I delined the invitation and stayed home and had ‘girls’ night’ with Wentworth Miller and Dominic Purcell, in my clean clean house ( even the bathroom) and with blue paint all over my hands I caressed my new stack of books.
Can’t wait to dig in……