dianaschnuth

We’ve been married for almost 14 years now — together for almost 21 years in total — so our V-Day plan is pretty established by now. Either I’ll get up on some morning near Valentine’s Day and find a bouquet on the kitchen table, or I’ll get a call from the front desk at my work to pick up the flowers that Aaron had delivered.

I look forward to this every year. We don’t go out for a romantic dinner — our schedules don’t really allow for it, plus we already do a monthly date night, and everything is CRAZY on Valentine’s Day — but I always can count on getting flowers from my Honey-Muffin.

XOXO, Honey. Happy Valentine’s Day.

On a whim, I created an account on Goodreads today.

(I’m not sure why it thinks I live in Delaware, but I haven’t corrected it yet.)

Goodreads seems like my kind of thing, as far as tracking what books I’ve read. I’ve been tracking my sparse reading habits elsewhere for the past couple of years; perhaps I’ll enter what data I have, just for grins.

I certainly have enough books that I haven’t read here at home, and in my Audible library — but if my To Be Read pile ever magically dwindles, Goodreads also looks like it’s ripe with recommendations.

Maybe just the act of recording what books I’m reading will spur me to read more. What gets measured gets done, as someone once said. Plus, I don’t want to embarrass myself by ONLY reading six books this year (even though I set that as my goal). I’m supposed to be this huge lover of reading… but I didn’t finish a single book in the second half of 2016.

My son told me the other day that “reading is boring.” Be still, my heart! My own son? Maybe if he sees his Mom reading more often instead of playing on her phone, he might get the idea that reading for leisure is a thing people do.

Plus, you know, a trip to the library every now and then never hurt anyone… even those of us with more books than can fit in our shelves.

For the first time in a few years, my husband is required to work Sundays during the Christmas season (a.k.a. peak season at his work). My son is upstairs with his Kindle Fire, having some Quiet Time, and I’m sitting on the couch, having just finished today’s (and yesterday’s) #fiveminutefreewrite topics.

I feel like I want to keep writing, but not about any of the backlogged blog topics I have on my list. (And I have dozens.)

I’m reminded of the days before I had a child, when I had hours upon hours of “me” time, and I would choose to use it by writing. (Or playing Civilization for a few hours on end.)

There’s plenty of other things I could be doing right now (my fingers just tried to type “write now”), like replacing the few burnt-out bulbs on the string of vintage Christmas lights, or making a batch of Christmas cookies to freeze for later, or finishing the laundry, or balancing my checkbook… but sitting here on the couch writing about nothing in the silent overcast wintry afternoon dimness is appealing.

It’s so quiet in here.

…

I should really get that laundry folded.

The start and the finish don’t look that different, but I guess that’s kind of the idea of actually keeping up with one’s style and dye job.