I do this to myself every year around the holidays. Do all anxious readers do this to themselves? I can’t help it. Collector mentality probably plays into this sickness of mine. I just like seeing them stacked up. I lie to myself, I think, and tell myself it’s motivating.
It’s fun to share, though. “What’s on your nightstand?” we ask each other. “What’s on your soul-crushing pile of despair?” you might as well ask me. But these slices of our minds present an easy way to quickly share something important with each other. When I first met my wife I had to lend her my favourite, primary books. I mean, they were me.
A brief discussion of the books here, along with the whys and hows, will follow in a later post. For now: marvel at my stupidity and self-hate.