Reading Like It's 1999
It takes discipline to read on a sunny Sunday afternoon and not fall prey to the honey-do list. I did succumb to Thompson water-sealing the new mailbox, which took all of ten minutes but made my wife happy. Nice bang for the buck there. She knows Saturdays are fair game where work around the house is concerned but expects nothing from me on Sundays.
I recall fondly how Peggy Noonan tried to put the best spin on negligent housekeeping by calling spiderwebs "Irish lace" and by saying the reason the Irish don't keep their houses pristine was because who has time to clean when there is Joyce and Yeats to read? Amen to that.
So I'm proud to report I was up to the challenge of not doing much work around the house Sunday. I read till I could read no mo'. As can be discerned from recent bloggings, I re-read parts of the Pope's "Love & Responsibility" and Chesterton's "Everlasting Man". Then there was also an Updike piece in the New Yorker, which led me inexorably to the book "John Updike and Religion".
After that a dollop of Victor Hanson's "Soul of Battle". He's now on to Patton, and I made a mental note to read Shelby Foote's thoughts on Sherman in his Civil War narrative.
Channel-fipping led me to a Discovery show on the fall of Rome, which eventually led to a few chapters of Epstein's "As the Romans Do: An American Family's Italian Odyssey".
Finally, Tony Hendra's "Father Joe" rounded out the elixir.
I guess reports of my book monogamy are greatly exaggerated. So many books, so little time.