I think I'm in a little over my head. And that's with the stack of books starting at chest height.
My reading list is getting almost dangerous. Between the two Isaacsons (not counting his newest), a couple of Alboms (yes, I'm hooked on the "Brad Pitt" of the book world, thanks to Carole for her criticism and phraseology!), another Gaiman and a book of women poets from antiquity to the present, I'm going to be a little busy for a while. And we won't even get into the newest releases in a new stack next to the Fall for the Book authors.
Or the All Fairfax Reads book.
And how about The Red Tent, which I have shared with three people, put a fourth copy on a communal bookshelf and have promised to discuss with at least two other people?
Or the new-to-me copy of Benefits, the feminist science fiction from college I finally found? Or the two — no, three novels on the living room chest?
Really, I am in over my head. I need to give up my day job to get some reading done. Or give up sleeping. If I didn't have to worry about a house payment, the decision would be a no-brainer. (Wait, which would I sacrifice again? Sleep or the job? Or both?)
So, please, save me from myself. If you see me wandering into my Borders (it is "my Borders," with as much as my paycheck that stays there when I leave with my new stack), stop me. If you see me balancing books precariously in my arms as I step blindly out of Yesterday's Rose, don't believe me when I say they're all for the lunchroom. The public library isn't safe by any means: those books are free! (Fines not included.) Intervention isn't a bad idea.
But instead, I'd prefer a second set of eyes so I can catch up on my reading.
Until then, look for me behind the towering stack of books on my table. I'll see you on the other side of the page.