Radio Silence

My apologies to anyone who reads my blog. I have been MIA. I realize that isn’t fair to those who read my posts, but I have been dealing with all this “new normal” crap. And I had a double ear infection that left me crabby and feeling awful. I look at blog posting like I look at grading papers – you should not do it when you are cranky. So, let’s talk about why I can’t seem to read much of anything.

When the quarantine (or whatever you want to call it) was announced, I thought, “Oh good. I can work at home. I will have more time to read because I won’t be able to go anywhere.” That’s not exactly how things worked out. Working from home is fine. But it’s not all I thought it would be. Turns out I miss my office. I like that little space with my white board and my weird chair and the pictures on the wall. More than that, I miss my coworkers. Really miss them. I miss the collaboration, venting, working. I am generally an introvert, but when I like you, I am definitely more extroverted. I miss my work peeps.

I have (finally) discovered Netflix. What. A. Revelation. I know, I’m waaaayyy behind on this. But seriously. I love it. I have been trying to watch Longmire, because after it left A&E, I missed it. I have been able to pay attention to it and have read three Longmire books. To be fair, two were on audio. But those count. I have spent long hours watching Longmire, The Closer, and the new shoes I follow. What I haven’t done a lot of is read.

I am currently working my way through Golden Gates: The Fight for Housing in America by Conor Dougherty. This book is fantastic. I am truly loving it. It’s informative but not boring. I just can’t read more than like 10 pages at a time. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. It’s not the book. I picked up Savage Son by Jack Carr. If you read this blog, you know how much I fawn over Jack Carr and his hero James Reece. I. Cannot. Read. It. I just can’t do it. There is something wrong.

I guess it’s just the Stephen King-like new realm we have entered. I am medically vulnerable. I worry about catching this, because unlike everyone who has drunk the kool aid, this isn’t the flu. It will kill me. I worry about my son and mom, who are riding this out together. I am sad that my son lost his first college baseball season. I am sad my niece is losing her prom and her graduation. My anxiety is off the charts, so that makes me do weird OCD things like clean my work space and reorganize my books.

I owe you some reviews. For the time being, please know that I am trying to get some more books read and I will try to post more regularly, but I make no promises, because every time I say I’m going to write more, I don’t. Hang in there. You are not alone.

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