Goodbye, Tolstoy?

I pretend this blog isn't here.

Easily distracted. Not a secret, not a surprise.

The classics list was a good plan. It wasn't a good time for it. A new hobby, a new job, things change.

I still love to read. I still want to read these books. I still go into bookstores and gently touch the books, dreaming of the words they contain, the worlds they hide. I sneak a look at a few pages, a few of them follow me home to join their brethren in my book stash, most of them are left behind with a sigh knowing I'll never hear their story. (and...ohmy...that was a HORRIBLE sentence. The grammar police won't know where to begin.)

Maybe I need to accept that the classics list isn't going to work out right now. I want to drown in books again, maybe they just need to be the random ones that beckon.

Anna Karenina is on the nightstand....
just in case.