Unless you’re suffering from the worst case of Montezuma’s revenge, coming home from a holiday mostly always sucks.
Besides going back to w-o-r-k, there’s the unpacking, and answering emails, and getting back to all the shit you wanted a rest from in the first place. Responsibility is overrated.
On top of my already raging general anxiety about everything, I now have book anxiety. Wonderful.
This time I thought I was smart. I prepared for the back-to-work crash. Prior to leaving for my holiday I purchased a brand-spanking-new book and placed it next to my bedside. Ah, yes, a little escapism.
However, while in Ireland and France, I loaded up on…yah, you got it – books.
You’ve heard people use the saying, “My eyes are bigger than my stomach.” If you haven’t, I’m not sure where you hang out.
There has also got to be a saying for bookworms who indulge in purchasing books but have tiny amounts of time in which to consume them.
I am guilty of disobeying my doctor’s orders and having a decluttered bedside. It is cluttered with books and magazines and more books. So many books and such little time…
Since the grand unpack, I have added;
Stamped with the precious Shakespeare & Co ink, I might add! So very exciting for a bookworm! Eeek!
These have all been added to my bedside pile which already includes a Historical Herbal Medicinal Guide, two books by Caroline Myss, a Kurt Vonnegut novel, a trashy romance, and a book of Irish fairytales all on a lovely bed of seasonal magazines.
I’m also on the cusp of losing my e-copy of The Book of Joy that I borrowed to read on the airplane.
Oh, the stress! The incredible stress of being a bookish woman!