I’ve started reading again. After six months of migraine headaches and more on my plate than I could choke down, I gave up on reading. I don’t think I’ve finished a book in a year. Sad, for someone who owns thousands of books, filling every shelf and stacked on every surface of her living space. Even sadder now, all these books are in boxes in our new condo, waiting patiently for our contractor to finish, or even start, building our bookshelves.
By some delightful chance, the one book I wanted to read had been spotted recently by jm one afternoon while peeking into each box to ascertain the contents. These boxes were then categorized and moved into four separate heaps according to “theme.” This, he assured me, would ease the unpacking process. I had my doubts. We closed on the condo a month ago and I can still only find two pairs of shorts and a handful of tank tops to wear. I will be pathetically cold once the fall breezes start.
But the book. Yes, he honed in on the box immediately and pulled out Julie and Julia by Julie Powell. Perfect. In so many ways.
Like Julie at the beginning of the book, I am lost. I have nothing to get out of bed for save the threat of losing my jobs and starving to death. The last month has been stressful as I watched all of my money fall through my fingers like sand. Every dollar replaced is owed to someone. Contractors, bill collectors and painters stand beneath catching the numbers that bleed from my bank account.
And I have no passion left to start unpacking, to start putting together the home of my dreams. Today, I didn’t even leave my bed. No phone calls made, or returned. No attempts to cork the cracked and leaking dam that is my life. I started to read.
I’m not going to provide a synopsis of the book because… I’m too tired. I don’t care. But I will say that I envy anyone who has a passion that takes them away from the horrors of work and bill-paying and arguments with homeless guys.
I love to cook, but I handed over all kitchen duties to my husband years ago. I was working too much, too stressed out, too tired. Julie embraced Julia Child’s legendary cookbook and set out to make every recipe within a year and blog about it. So far, I’m blogging about my empty bank account, the fact that I haven’t showered today, and the incredible itchiness of my self inflicted wounds (the recent tattoo).
I don’t want to be this boring. I also don’t want to get out of bed. What to do?