On a personal front, 2019 started as it meant to go on:  crap.  This is reflected in my year in books, which I'm not even going to review, because I'm 100% sure it's crap.  I didn't come close to my goal, my participation in all the games this year was sub-par, and my participation on BookLikes in general was almost non-existent.

2020 is at least starting on a more positive note.  We're busy beavers here at the funny/animal farm, but we're both in good health and we've had some great news on the business transition front that will make life much more cheerful - or at least, less stressful.  My in-laws have run out of furniture and pictures to give us (I think / hope / pray), and I'm a lot in love with my new camera and itching to book my safari.

However, I'm still feeling down in the slumps, reading-wise.  This might be because we're up to our eyeballs in a home improvement project that has MT and I taking bets as to which of us is going to be the first to lose a kneecap in the middle of the night. I don't want to count on it, so I'm setting my 2020 goal at 150 books, maybe 125.  2019 has me spooked.

Australia is also in the midst of trying to destroy itself; the stats are staggering, and I won't hit you with them here, but every state and territory in the country is on fire in a really, really big way, and where the fire isn't, the smoke is.  I honestly believe it will be a miracle if, by the time it's all over, there's anything but sand and concrete left.  

December 18th was the hottest day ever recorded over the entire country:  the average temperature for the nation (which is roughly the size of the USA) was 107.4 / 41.9C.  That includes Tasmania, whose nearest neighbor is Antartica.  3 days ago (Saturday) an outer suburb of Sydney hit 120 / 48.9C - the hottest place on the planet that day.  Melbourne reached 111 / 44C.  I  mention all this because we haven't had a day over 60 / 16C since Sunday.  My AC is having an identity crisis, and Australian weather is weird.

Meanwhile, we're all fine, but the chickens are complaining about not being able to get the smell of the smoke out of their feathers, and the cats have retired to bed for the foreseeable future; the fish don't understand what the fuss is all about but are requesting someone do something about all the bees stealing their water.  I can't imagine a scenario where we'd be in serious danger, but I catch myself wondering if the car is big enough for 2 cats, 4 chickens, and 2 humans, and how many of each species would come out intact at the end; please God may I never have to find out.

I have reached rock bottom and denial is no longer working for me.  The rationalisation that life has been so busy!, no matter how true it might be, no longer holds up when you'd rather stare at your fingernails than pick up your book.

I'm in the mother of all reading slumps.

I've been reading a 160-something page book now for over a week.  It's not the author's best effort, but it certainly isn't that bad.  And I can't blame it on the book either.  I am overflowing with literary ennui.  

It will pass, as all things do, and I certainly do have more than enough happening in RL at the moment to keep me from fretting over the giant pink book slump in the middle of the room.  I long ago hit my book goals for the year, so there's no pressure to read either.  

But it would be nice if that giant pink book slump would haul its carcass out of here sooner rather than later; it's sitting in my favourite chair and hogging all the good light.

I've been in a serious book slump lately. As I mention quite often, I'm terrible with time management.  I grab my tablets, full of lovely ebooks, and I have all best intentions to read. And then I'm checking emails, posting comments on Disqus, tweeting, tumbling, and pinning. Then there's Facebook. God help me! I was so happy to be released from working with my husband at the crawfish farm and I promised myself to catch up with my books. I lied. I did!! I'm reading this wonderful book about George Sand and my attention span is all over the place. There's absolutely no good reason that it's taking me this long to read this book. I really am loving this book! It's right up my alley. I find George Sand fascinating.  

Note to self: STOP goofin' around and get busy! Finish this book already!! You know you love it. Oh! Wait. Didn't I DVR that Marilyn Monroe Lifetime movie? Yep. I did! 

Ugh. It's May and I still have yet to read something that is amazing.   I'm finding plenty of graphic novels I really like, but finding a novel that is fantastic is really hard. I think I may have to go play on goodreads where I can browse books...

It's been about a week, and for reasons unknown, I suddenly have no attention span for reading. It's not that I got discouraged reading boring stuff: I have new books on my TBR from writers I'm excited about: Rainbow Rowell, Meredith Duran, Julie Anne Long, Julie James, Kit Rocha. All favorites, but every time I have a few minutes to read, I can't seem to concentrate, and I go off and do something else.

I hate when this happens. Sometimes my brain just turns off to reading, as if a switch got flipped, and it can take forever to turn it back on. Law school sucked away any desire I had for pleasure-reading for years. I so hope this slump is temporary!

Help pull me out of this slump. What are you reading? Tell me all about it, as enthusiastically as you can!