I apologize for the quiet week posting-wise. I blame it on being between books; I began one, discarded it, began another, discarded it. I knew I wanted to read something, but couldn’t figure out what. I spent a great deal of time staring at my bookshelves, and the rest of the time watching mindless YouTube videos and scrolling through Pinterest. I was generally listless and uninspired and only wanted lukewarm broth with noodles when lunchtime rolled around. You know the feeling.
Last night I finally settled on one: The White Forest, by Adam McOmber. It’s ethereal and mysterious and Victorian (three of my favorite qualities in a novel) and it’s just exactly what I’ve been craving.
Today, thank goodness, my productivity levels are up again. I woke up at a respectable 10:00, put on some flannel, cleaned my room while listening to This American Life, and went out into the 53-degree world with blissful purpose. I mailed a care package to Amy, who is homesick over there in cheesehead land. Mom and I visited Ojiketa Regional Park to check out Art Blitz. Then we went to Sunrise River Farm for apples and apple bread and apple butter. And I tried to scratch a donkey’s nose. He tossed his head away, disgruntled that I hadn’t brought a food offering for him. I guess I see his point.