Reading in English is a tremendous brain suck. No, scratch that. Reading Amelia Peabody is a tremendous brain suck. I had trouble getting through the last two books (Camel and Snake), so what do I do? Start on another (Hippopotamus), like the will-less puppet I've become. Last time I did this was with Pratchett who varied wildly in story and setting from one book to the next, and required some recup time after each. Peabody is all the same, except it's different enough from book to book (and well-written enough, an important point) to keep me going. Truly insidious.
I so want to be done so I can start making inroads on my stack of indifferent Japanese novels and indifferent manga, and I don't want it to end because it's so comfortable and it's *cold* outside and it's pleasant sitting in the rocker wrapped in a quilt and reading Amelia Peabody while all ambition goes down the drain. Arghities.
ETA- also I want to bike to the 24-hour 365-day grocery and buy a mint truffle pig. I don't need a mint truffle pig. I want one anyway.