Forced reading. (That's an oxymoron, by the way.)
Greetings! I am coming to you live from where I work, a.k.a the only other place I'll be going until I finish my self-imposed Whitney reading. It sounds like torture, doesn't it?
Can I just say how nice it is to actually have a reason to look forward to February now? It's always been my least favorite month, but as of recently, there's been a silver lining. Now it comes complete with permission to gorge myself on books I've been meaning to read but haven't managed to fit into my schedule yet. It's like a shiny present; infinitely better than a box of Valentine's Day chocolates.
Ideally, I'd like to be able to vote in all the categories, but there might be one teeny, tiny snag.
I'm significantly behind. Last year I had a much bigger head start when the list of nominees came out. Still, I'm going to make a SERIOUS effort. I'd love to vote for Best Book of the Year, but that means I'd have to finish all thirty books before April 3rd. It's a worthy goal, but perhaps not a very realistic one.
So, I thought I'd give you the occasional report on how it's going... as long as you promise not to laugh too hard if I fall short. Plus, it's an excuse to blog!
Current tally: eight books read. (And yes, that includes mine.)
Comments? Encouragement? Raucous laughter?