Shameless

I'm tired. I'm cranky. I can't form a coherent thought. So I'm just going to crib stuff from Bookslut:

"One day, you're a new New Yorker subscriber. A few months later, the only issue you finished reading was the first one to arrive, and even that felt like homework. The others get flipped through and then placed on the "Surely I'll read these someday" pile along with the half-read Atlantic Monthlys, the issues of The Economist you pick up at the bookstore but never read, and the Paris Reviews you should really just throw away. Soon after that, your cat is knocking the precarious stack over at least twice a week, and you're getting so close to just chucking the whole lot. But articles! That look so interesting and important! Oh... you'll get around to them soon. Real soon. Right after you finish this issue of Lucky. Well, at least I'm not alone."

I, too, feel less alone in this world. And I now know that not everyone will furrow their brow when my obit reads that I was crushed to death under a pile of unread magazines.