Monday. Much like that lasagna loving feline, Garfield, I’m not too crazy about Mondays. This morning found me ready to kill the alarm clock nature has provided me lately: a chorus of chattering birds on the porch roof outside my window at 4 AM in the morning. Four AM. That’s just wrong. Waking up at four in the morning means that I have exactly an hour and a half more to sleep; unfortunately, that also means, by the time I do finally manage to doze off, it’s time to get up and I’m more groggy and grumpy than ever.

I’m still putting in long days at work, which makes me dread Mondays all the more. In order to cheer myself up, I keep my bank-book at hand to remind me that overtime pay is very nice and going straight into my savings account for ‘one day, someday.’ It does feel good to see money going back into savings, especially after so much of it got wiped out by car problems last summer. I’m just praying that nothing else goes wrong with my nice little Toyota and that money can just stay in the bank account.

Reading. I feel like I’m distracted when it comes to reading these days. I’ve got four books going right now and am tempted to stop at the library for more, plus spend my birthday money at Amazon. I think I have an addiction to books. I’m running out of room for them all; my bedroom is beginning to look something like Meggie and Mo’s house in Inkheart:

The books in Mo and Meggie’s house were stacked under tables, on chairs, in the corners of the rooms. There where books in the kitchen and books in the lavatory. Books on the TV set and in the closet, small piles of books, tall piles of books, books thick and thin, books old and new. They welcomed Meggie down to breakfast with invitingly opened pages; they kept boredom at bay when the weather was bad. And sometimes you fall over them.

I could go through them again and give some away; I likely will within the next six months, but…I don’t enjoy it. Yes, my bookshelves hold books that I haven’t read in years, but some are for reference (for instance, I doubt I’ll ever read “So Much More” just for kicks, but it will be great to have on hand if I ever find myself in a debate on that topic again!), some are classics that every library must own (Ivanhoe and Little Women, anyone?) and many are books I hope to read to my own children one day.

My sister recently bought her own copy of Gene-Stratton Porter’s “Laddie” and since she’s reading it, of course, I have to re-read it. Such a cute novel. A little on the sweet side, but oh, how I love some of the characters. Actually, some of the minor characters intrigue me more than some of the main. Pamela, or the Princess, is far more than say, Leon, that blonde-headed rapscallion who reminds me of my sarcastic middle brother. And the following quote pretty much confirms what my sister, a few friends and I have been saying for awhile regarding silly things like pretty clothes and sparkly nail-polish:

Father said, with her face it didn’t make any difference what she wore, and mother said that was just like a man; it made all the difference in the world what a girl wore. Father said maybe it did to the girl, and other women; what he meant was that it made none to a man. Mother said the chief aim and end of a girl’s life was not wrapped up in a man…

So true. 😉

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