I have been suffering from some hopefully 24 hr. flu bug type thing in which I could do nothing but sit up , get dizzy and lie down again. This exercise was followed by the it’s too hot, throw the blanket off, it’s too cold put the blanket back on dance. So needless to say, I wasn’t able to do the blog posts I wanted to and will be doing a big, most likely disjointed catch up post at some time during the week.
“Some things couldn’t be explained. Some things could. Sometimes you liked the explanation. Sometimes you didn’t. That’s when you call it myth.-p. 188.
While I was flat on my back I read a great thriller by Thomas Harris called, The Ghost. I finished it in three days. I can’t remember the last time I read something so quickly. I became intrigued by it because I saw it as a movie trailer first, The Ghost Writer. An extra added bonus, it stars Ewan MacGregor, so I got to think about him the entire time I was reading the book.
Also on this literary day, Happy Birthday Mr. Dickens. I know it was on the 7th, but things got in the way. The day we begin reading Barnaby Rudge is fast approaching. See the Dickensblog for details.
Now fingers crossed, I will make it home from the PTSO meeting to see LOST. Only 15 more episodes and only 1500 things to figure out.
Until then, Namaste