Hopefully, maybe

I set a goal for myself each year to read 50 books. If it’s more, fantastic! If not, well, at least I read.

This started one year when I kept a running total of each book after I finished it. At the end of the year, I had reached 50.

I’m a little ashamed to say I’ve only completed 10 so far this year. It’s not so much for lack of trying. I have hit those dry spells where I just can’t get into a book. And then other times, I can’t read enough.

It’s funny, really, how it comes in waves. Sometimes, I’m indifferent to it, others I stay up way longer than I should just to get to the end.

I was always into reading when I shouldn’t growing up. I am not ashamed to say I got a book or two taken away in class because it wasn’t exactly what I was supposed to be doing.

I also managed to purchase all the e-books in a nearly 20 book series on my parents’ credit card without them knowing. In my defense, I didn’t realize I was actually spending money. And to their credit, they didn’t get too mad. There are worse things I could have accidentally purchased, after all.

I keep trying to work my way to that lofty goal, but it’s not as easy as it might sound. I tend to lean more towards e-books and borrow them from a library.

I know, I know, come after me all you want. The gal who studied literature and writes for a living should be a supporter for the physical print. And I am, believe me. I just find it makes more sense for me to borrow the e-books. No money is spent and they don’t take up much space.

But the real problem comes with having to rely on the system to have what I want and for it to be available. Too often I go to borrow a book and either it doesn’t exist within that database or the wait is longer than I care to wait.

Just 40 more to go. I’ve got this. Hopefully. Maybe.