I love to read the classics. I reread books from high school and college that I hated then but can appreciate now that I am not analyzing them to death and being tested on later. I read books I should have read long ago, and never did; I read the obscure, unknown and long-forgotten books by beloved authors who seem to be known only for those big, famous books everyone reads; and now and then I actually read something current. Usually, that means the latest Saveur that comes in the mail, or one of my monthly scrapbooking magazines. For my birthday in 2009, I was given a gift card for Barnes and Noble, which I giddily redeemed for about 13 books (thank goodness the classics are cheaper than the latest best-sellers!). A year and a half later, I have read only seven. The longest I have been with a book is the current one, Little Dorrit by Charles Dickens. Now, I have this little habit of making myself a new bookmark each time I start a new book, where on the back I stamp the date in which I am starting the book, and then re-stamp it with the date I complete it. Notice the date I started Little Dorrit:

Almost seven months later, I am still not finished. Sigh. I seem to be able to read only half-a-dozen pages before I get too sleepy to read any more. I thought for sure I would finish it last night (I’m on the last chapter), but no, I was overcome by the sandman. Even if I read during the day (when do I have time?), I become drowsy after just a few pages. What is it about this book? Boring? No. In the beginning it was a little slow, but there are so many twists and turns happening now, it’s become quite the suspenseful thriller. And still, I fall asleep. I have no idea why, but nonetheless, I am determined to finish it. Tonight. I think……

Tomorrow, I hope to be posting about whatever new book I have chosen to read….I said, I hope.