Strange fact: I’m only nervous about tornadoes when it’s dark outside. I’m convinced for some reason that if I can see a tornado coming, there’s no problem. Immaterial since no twister touched down this evening, at least none of which I’m aware.
I say yay though, because I was too busy last night to finish reading The Man Who Folded Himself, and tonight it seemed like the best use of my time on the floor of the shower. The ending, if you already know it, is as anticlimactic as the second viewing of Fight Club, but on the whole it was a great experience. Not as moving as my periodic re-reading of The Bridge to Terabithia, but since that was the book that introduced me as a child to reading for meaning rather than simply entertainment, I doubt anything else ever will be.
If it’s processed and ready to check out when I go in tomorrow, I’m planning next to read Brasyl, otherwise I’ll probably check out again Love is a Mix Tape, a book that fell victim at the beginning of spring to my inability to limit myself to a quantity of books I can actually read. Or maybe Cryptonomicon. Trying to choose just one book is difficult, but I have to choose before I leave work tomorrow, since I’m imposing a strict one-book-at-a-time policy on myself until we leave. There’s not much time left, I don’t want to leave a bunch of titles sitting around unread.