My desk drawer at work has turned into a book graveyard – I always take books in with such good intentions and never finish them. It’s like, as soon as they are at work, they no longer present any sort of appeal, like the office rubs off on them or something. They are tarnished by becoming part of the most boring aspect of my life. Even the David Sedaris book in there seems boring to me when I read it at lunch. Well, at least in comparison to the delights that Buzzfeed is offering – why yes I do want to see the 33 photos that prove Aussie men are hot.
To be fair, the Sedaris is a bit of an anomaly. Most of the books buried in there are non-fiction – I have a thing about not reading two fiction novels at the same time (there’s no way my tiny brain wouldn’t get them mixed up) – but a fiction and a non-fiction at the same time makes sense, except the last thing I want on my lunch break is to read about real life. I’m already living it real, and it’s boring as all get out.
I’m thinking maybe I should try some genre fiction at lunch, or some YA…but then when would I ever get around to finishing (ok, starting) The Female Eunuch?
Categories: Book life