My Day in Books

I am having a weird day.  Part of the weirdness is the weather.  It's freezing.  A few days ago I had all the windows open and the apartment was hot from the sun streaming in all afternoon.  Today, I am walking around inside, dressed in a fleece, trying to stay warm.  This weather doesn't help my mood.  It's a good day to stay inside, crawl back into bed and feel sad.  I've resisted the urge for the most part.  I got myself to the gym early in the morning but then the rest of the day loomed in front of me. I had no meetings, no set agenda to follow.   Too miserable out to take a walk or go for a run.  Too depressing to go the movies by myself.  Consumer therapy was not to be considered:  Shopping seemed a joyless activity.  So instead I decided to spend the day reading.  Yes,  that is something I do more often than not but this time I had a plan.  I decided to take a tour of all the places to read in my apartment, and at each location to read something different. 

First off, the kitchen counter where I propped the latest issue of the New York Review of Books while I ate my lunch.  I skimmed through a few reviews but nothing grabbed me.   Next, I stretched out on the futon in my study and read from start to finish a thin volume of poetry, "What the Living Do," by Maria Howe.  It was Liz's copy and I read her notes too.  The poems are all about loss but reading them didn't make me sad.  I knew where they were going.  Then I went downstairs and settled on the sofa in the den and read some essays in "Pulphead" by John Jeremiah Sullivan.  I read essays about Axl Rose and Michael Jackson and a piece about reality TV.  Comic relief.  Cold air leaked through the windows and I wrapped myself in a blanket to keep away the draft.  I moved next to the velvet upholstered sofa in the living room, propped myself on pillows and read a chapter of "Light Years" by James Salter which a friend had just given to me to read.  I'm not sure if I'm going to like it but I feel bound to finish.

Now it's time to get up, get dressed and go out for dinner and conversation with a friend.  But I already know what I am going to do when I get home:  Get in bed and read a book before I turn out the light and go to sleep.