I can’t possibly be the only one who struggles with this…can I?

Leaving the library with upwards of 10 new books in my bag is a weekly high like no other. The wide-open possibilities are intoxicating. I can sense it now, by proxy, just writing about it.

I get home.

And then…I come down hard.

I draw a book from the bag. The main character in this right-up-my-alley mystery makes a totally ridiculous choice – abandon. Draw another. That juicy non-fiction biomedical expose starts losing it’s juice after Chapter 2 – gone. The next. The middle grade fiction that I chose (again) and tried (again) still isn’t working for me – see ya. And on it goes – book after book, once so full of promise and hype, becomes another notch on my Goodreads DNF shelf.

There is usually one good apple in the bunch – one book that I read AND finish. On a good week, I find two. I re-read old favorites when necessary. The rest get put back, forlornly, in the library bag and returned. I go through so much of this trying on that it is what I now expect. Does the librarian think I read all of those books? I hope she’s on to me, because then I would know that I am not alone.

Am I?

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