So I’ve been going through a bit of a dry spell lately: I haven’t been in the mood to read any books. After finishing Umberto Eco’s The Mysterious Flame of Queen Loana on Sunday night, the motivation to read left me, like the flocks of birds that will soon be migrating south. I’ve been trying to persuade myself that I feel really bad for my sudden lapse of reason, but the truth is, I only feel a slight twinge of guilt. Granted, it’s not enough to get me to pick up one of the books I know I should read, but I haven’t felt my I.Q. take a significant plunge (not that I have much I.Q. to begin with), so I suppose I’m safe. But I wonder how much longer this can last.

Still, I can’t help but chuckle at the irony: I guess this has finally taught me that bad habits really are harder to break than good ones.