I have been feeling pretty mad lately; its the end of the fiscal year (which is synonymous with doomsday for everyone - the one in the job and the one tackling the one in the job) and though I have had a lot of 'free' time, most of it has been going into making time for me to be able to read anything besides corporate papers in the weekdays. Either way, I am touchy right now and little things set me off. Little things like...
1. There was a not-so-battered copy of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire lying in the heap at the foot of a second-hand bookseller. Really ?? You had the heart to give away the book where Cedric died ? And Voldemort returned ? I am astounded (disgusted ?) at your emotional strength.
2. An acquaintance said she found Hurt Locker so boring, she walked off the theatre at interval. I am sorry the movie wasn't a musical.
3. Another acquaintance refused to come to Les Miserables. Oh I am so sorry, there are no guns blazing in this one. Russel Crowe, Hugh Jackman and Anne Hathaway not good enough for you ?
4. Somebody (NOT me, as everyone says) misplaced the spindle of my food-processor; I can't make juices.
5. I lost the little magnetic bookmark I had placed in my collection of Oscar Wilde poems. Now I don't remember which work's undercurrents I had last deciphered (I am not really a poetry person).
6. Dawn of Justice turned out to be OK.
7. Recurring bad taste in the mouth from the last book I read.
8. My uncle gifted me Mother. My Mom gifted me Silkworm. And I am two books behind schedule on either of them . Gnnnnnnhhhh !!! Plus, I can see a signed copy of The River of Smoke sitting prettily in the bookshelf, which seems to be filling up without my knowledge.
9. A dead croton plant in the window ledge.
The sunny side: On my Mom's recommendation to read something besides war stories and my husband's concern for my growing Mr. Mercedes-induced tetchiness, I am reading Stiff Upper Lip, Jeeves and I am going to keep one.