Well, I haven't yet reached that point in my life when my days are waning instead of waxing. Thank goodness for that. When that happens I'll probably be running around like Lucy in Peanuts screaming "This is the last day!" or something similar.
No, what I'm running low on is a) days of summer and b) P.G. Wodehouse books.
And I'm not even really low on the latter. One of the great things about P.G. Wodehouse is that instead of dallying around trying to write the Great English Novel all the time, he just wrote every day and sent what he wrote to magazines. Unlike me. I'm very much a dallier. Our laptop is back from the Mac repair shop, and I expect to spend what remains of my summer dallying over my novel-in-progress with glazed eyes.
Honestly, I should be proud of myself. I've managed to hold back on Jeeves and Wooster ever since March, so I've still got a ways to go in that series. But then I fell in love with his Psmith series and I just began the last one, so I'm conscious of an acute sense of pain. I don't want to say goodbye to Psmith.
Fine, I tell myself stoutly, remembering that I've got my youth. Here's my ultimatum:
If I run low on books I'll reread the old ones. And from now on, every single day of summer is just going to have to count for two.
[Note: And unfortunately for my summer cold, I'm also running low on lozenges. I'll just have to see what runs out first, the lozenges or the cold. I'm rooting for the latter.]
No comments:
Post a Comment