… I am not.
This is a rather sad fact when you consider my grand desire to be a writer and all.
Plain and simple, I’m a slow reader when it comes to books. I’ve been reading Snow Crash for the past two weeks. Only half way through. Elizabeth Bear’s Carnival is sitting on my desk waiting to be read. If I want to get through the other instructors from VP, I’d better get a moving.
Thankfully I’ve had a friend in Mother Nature who has given us a weird July. Normally we avoid going outside this time of year because we’ll melt. The past week or so, I’ve been packing a jacket to take to work because it’s a tad bit chilly outside. It has made it nice to sit out on the porch though.
Over lunch, I head out there and get a chapter or two read. If the cat lets me that is. He sleeps on the chair so I sit on the bench. Then he decides the bench looks comfy and heads on over to stretch out. So I sit on the chair. Now he thinks the chair looks good …
Hey, wait a second. Maybe I’m not a slow reader. It’s that darn cat! It’s his fault!
Ah, cats. Is there anything you can’t blame on them?