I’ve read 9 books this month. That’s half again as many as I’d read this _year_ previous to May. I’m pretty sure I could happily stay on vacation through the end of June without having the slightest urge to go back to the keyboard to work. I keep looking at books on the TBR shelf that I’ve been looking forward to for years and putting off reading them yet because I *know* they’re going to be good, and I don’t want to commit myself to reading something _that good_ until I’ve really got the time to enjoy it.
I believe I’m still feeling completely overwhelmed. Bah.
miles to Minas Tirith: 437.5