What were you thinking? What the hell were you thinking? I ask myself this question, in different variations, numerous times throughout the day.
I think we’ve already covered how ambitious I am when it comes to the amount of time I actually have to read a day. From an ambition scale zero to a hundred, I’m a thousand. Hence I come before you right now, tail between my legs, head hung low. I can’t even look you in the eye. It’s mid-year and I’m not even half way through my Goodreads reading challenge.
At the start of the year I set the goal at 33. Yes, I. No one coerced me to do it, it was me and I was acting out of free will. I was being cute even. This year I turn 33. So I thought let’s do 33 books this year. Mind you it was a huge jump from last year’s well considered target of 12, which I failed by 1 or 2 books. Now I decided to go for nearly triple that this year. Don’t ask. Just don’t.
Anyway, suffice to say, we are half way through the year and I’ve only completed 6 out of 33 books aimed for. You do the math, I’m too bleak to even care.
That’s it guys. The sad sad state of things. How this is happening to me, I do not know. Wow.
In fact, let’s just walk away from this post right now.