If people were rain, I was drizzle and he was hurricane.

I think I need to read this book. I have "An Abundance of Katherines" from the same author, but I haven't gotten to reading it yet along with many others - stories stacked in a sad heap of longing for time that I don't have. It's irrational and won't do me any good, but sometimes I really wish there were more hours in a day, or more days in a week (that's a better option I think), so I could just sit down and lose myself in a good book every once in a while.

The other way to go around it is to unclutter* my life, but I'm having so much fun in this mess of things that is my twenty-something years, these last years of reckless youth. So the mess is necessary. The sad heap of books will be read someday, but not just yet, I guess.

*Apparently, "unclutter" is not a word, and only "uncluttered" is? The long and glaring red line under it is in my peripheral vision as I type this, and you have no idea how much it's bothering me right now.