As I'm writing this, it is 7.00 pm on a humid Easter Sunday night in Manila. And I am in deep thought, wracking my brain as to how I spent the last 4 days and why oh why I was not able to finish even just 1 damn book.
In the Philippines, a country with a predominantly Catholic population, we have a lot of religious holidays. This week is just one of them. We get a long weekend this week, beginning with Thursday up to Easter Sunday.
So what the hell happened the past 4 days? I didn't even leave the house, except last Saturday to do a bit of clothes shopping and then dinner. Based on my calculations, I should have had at least 60 hours for reading. And yet, I'm back to work tomorrow and I have not added any books yet in my reading list.
Before, I used to read 5 books at least during the Holy Week. Now, argh, 0! I'm just disgusted with myself. Hello, ground I'm stepping on. Why don't you open up now and swallow me whole. And spit me to the fiery abyss of my own version of hell. (In my hell, I wear prescription glasses and I'm in this huge library. Then I drop my glasses and the lenses break.)
I received a late birthday gift (John Green's The Fault in Our Stars) from an officemate last Wednesday. Funny thing, I was in the bookstore the day before and I was holding the same book, deciding for close to an hour if I should get it. I didn't! Yay, restraint! Yay, fortuitous circumstance! Of course, I wasn't able to read it. Yay?