The book which I’m supposed to be reading right now (The Secret History by Donna Tartt) has disappeared. I’ve looked all over the house for it and can’t see it anywhere.

Oh well, plenty more fish in the sea (or books in my TBR pile).

Maybe Mr Book is playing mind games with me, waiting for me to mourn his loss. He must know that I wear black most of the time anyway, so he can’t use that to boost his ego.

He’s probably at Stringfellows right now ogling the strippers and whispering lewd suggestions into the punters’ ears, “Read me, read me. Sure these girls are hot, but I can engage your mind too.”

It’s okay though, I know he’ll be back in a few days when he wants to share a bath with me and enjoy a good spine-cracking. A woman knows her books.

Written by PJ | Posted in reading

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