Reading

The other day, I became afraid because I realized that there are way too many books worth reading, and I am never not going to be running out of time to read them all. I'm wondering how long the panicked practice of swallowing books whole, as if they were chocolate cakes (as my dad would say), can possibly last. My guess would be for the duration of the summer. As I lay on the carpet next to the window like a lizard, trying to soak up as much sun as possible, I recall this feeling of grogginess that comes from a day of doing nothing but reading. I probably should be working, but real life feels not-so-real today, or at least not very pressing or important. :)