This is frustrating to me. Gone is my ability to devour a history book. My thirst for poetry and linguistics is no longer there. The desire to learn more about psychology and current events? Gone. The quest to read everything Margaret Atwood has written? Set aside. Bible study? Eked out at the last minute (literally). Tackling those classics I've never gotten around to? They can wait.
Nothing but the Sookie Stackhouse series will satisfy me. I feel pretty guilty. I feel lazy. But they are so juicy and delicious! And oh so much fun after some pretty intense reads (The Count of Monte Cristo, Infidel, Pride and Prejudice, Moby Dick, the Preacher graphic novels, etc). It's good to relax and give my brain a vacation, right? Sometimes it really is nice to sink my teeth (tee hee!) into a book that doesn't take too much energy to get through.
I feel better, after that guilty admission. And so, further neglecting household chores and the quest for higher intellect, I'm on to Dead to the World, in which Eric the statuesque viking vampire is wearing a red speedo. Mmmhmm.