I love to read in bed. My nightstand is often groaning with the weight of a stack of books, each a dear nocturnal companion. In fact—this may sound humorous—I also have a few volumes tucked safely between my mattress and my headboard, as if, in some sort of literary emergency, I may not have time to reach the two feet to my nightstand to grab hold of a book. Right now, as I lounge in bed, I have within reach a biography of Abraham Lincoln, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, one of the Harry Potter books, a paperback Merriam Webster (a staple), a P.D. James mystery, and a book of essays about European history.
Holy cow . . . I just realized why I’m still single. Crap.
1 comment:
Sadly, I am laying in my bed reading The Host because I can NOT sleep at night and am not sure why...BTW - Have you read the new book that I know you stood in line for at midnight the other night? :o)
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