That’s embarrassing
I like reading books. During my carefree days of unemployment I was reading, on average, four a week, generally non-fiction but every once and a while I'd spice things up with a novel. Now that my work circumstances have changed (in that I have I have a job, actually two) my reading pace has fallen off a cliff. I'm right around finishing one book every week and a half and to be honest its probably closer to a book every two weeks. Its pathetic and I plan on picking up the pace shortly.
Having said all that, I notice to my chagrin that I haven't read a single book on the NY Times' 100 Notable Books of the Year (via Jill). Not a one. How this is possible I'm not sure but, sad to say, it is true. If my Dad were to find that out he'd ridcule me and beat me, just like he did when I was a kid and he caught me at pre-school wearing girls clothes (long story, all of which is true except the beating part. Or the ridiculing part). Luckily for me he hasn't quite figured out the connecting tubes that make up the internets. Regardless I'm making it through as many of those books as I can, starting, I think, with Thomas Ricks' Fiasco.
Holla at me