Saturday, 18 August 2012

Art Imitating Life

I'm currently reading the first series of novels by Charlaine Harris (author of the Sookie Stackhouse/True Blood series) that I picked up from the library.   I've been quite enjoying it, when I get a chance to read. 

I use the bus trip to and from work to read for the most part. 

I worked an extra day yesterday therefore loosing my down-time from being "a widowed mother of a toddler working to keep a roof over our head and food on the table whilst trying to remain sane" for the week and being stressed out to the max with budgets and trying to get things done on deadline (and not really succeeding).  I was feeling pretty low on resilience on what the world was throwing at me, and so I escaped into my book on my way home.

And lo and behold, a recurring character becomes a widow with a couple of books to go.

Crap.  Now I'm really on the verge of tears and loosing it.

Not what I need sitting on the bus next to some teenage boy who was already shitty as I'd made him put his bag on the floor under his feet so my arse could park on the seat.

I got home and distracted myself doing the grocery shop and continued my day.

On the up side, at least I can identify with the character in the final books, right?

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