Jim was just up here wondering why, despite my plethora of deadlines, I’m not getting much work done.
"I’m disconsolate," I said. "It’s a beautiful day and I want to go to the bookstore and I have to stay inside and work."
He went downstairs in search of food, and/or to get away from Round 5,000,387 of my continual crankiness, and I returned to dicking around online wasting time.
Then I stumbled on this post from the NYT City Room blog about the pure pleasure, nearly exclusive to the summer months, of reading outdoors. And now that nagging urge has turned into a full-blown craving. I want to go outside and settle down on the grass somewhere with a blanket–since we no longer have grass at our house, it will have to be in some park-like environment–and read. Preferably one of the chunky tempting works of nonfiction steadily accumulating next to my bed, such as The Coming of the Book: The Impact of Printing 1450-1800. (It is, natch, research for The Book.) Or Ideas: A History of Thought and Invention, from Fire to Freud, which is such an awe-inspiringly comprehensive and well- (though densely-) written book that I can only read it in wee titches here and there.
So it’s currently 11:41 Newman Standard Time. I am going to do my penultimatest (because my ultimatest is a goal to which I dare not aspire) to finish up these things I gotta do by 2:15. (Fifteen minutes of wiggle room. Will it be enough?) And then, FSM willing and the creek don’t rise, I will repair to an outdoor space and do some outdoor reading. Maybe to the Jamison Square fountains downtown, though probably not, because too many people, ecch. (N.B.: Jim, apparently no longer so annoyed by my crankiness that he must avoid the room entirely, is suggesting that we go to "Elephant Park," the playground at Washington Park, instead. Fine by me. And Powell’s is right on the way.)
Do you like to read outside? What’s your favorite reading spot, outdoors or otherwise? And what are you reading right now?