My Favorite Book, and Taking Better Care of my Body

Okay, so, booktiem. 'Cos all my friends haven't heart me rave about this book for the past year (they have).

It's my favorite book of all time, ever. It's insane. And no one I've given it to has been able to finish it. One or two haven't even been able to start. To quote my old English teacher, "I don't know what it is about it. It's not a bad book. It's just incredibly difficult to finish." I can attest to this. I can finish a good book in a day to a week. At 688 pages, this book is shorter than Deathly Hallows, which took me a week. Never once reading Winter's Tale was I bored; never did I feel like I couldn't read any more. Know how long it took me?

Five months. No, seriously.

The language isn't excessively difficult. It's definitely not grade school level reading, but honestly, by high school you should be used to that. It's nothing compared to scripture or Shakespeare or something like Don Quixote. It's certainly not ridiculous. There's just something about this book that makes it hard to get through. I don't know, I can't explain it. What I can say is that this book means more to me than any other I know. I sleep with it at night. Literally. (I sleep with books. Maybe that's weird. I don't mean on my bedstand. I mean in bed with me. Sometimes I cuddle with them like stuffed animals.)

So anyway, read it, and if you finish it, you'll amaze me.

On another thought, I need to pay more attention to my body. xD So once a year I get bronchitis. Roughly. I've come to almost expect it. So this month, when I had a "cold" for four weeks in a row, maybe something should've clicked in my head. Whatever, it didn't, so I had to wait four weeks for it to get so bad I was incapacitated and then it occurred to me to maybe visit a doctor. Remind me when I start feeling fluish in the spring to go and see a doctor. It's probably the flu.