WHEN YOU REREAD, YOU DON’T SEE MORE IN THE BOOK THAN YOU DID BEFORE, YOU SEE MORE IN YOURSELF
For someone as perpetually busy as I am, a weekend with no plans is both soothing and disorienting. I’m constantly torn between the need to relax and the urge to fill my time. I need the downtime, my shivering soul protests, but my brain won’t stop buzzing. Everywhere I look there is, of course, something to be done, a project half-finished looking at me reproachfully, dust bunnies prowling under the bed. The bathroom needs scrubbing and I dutifully swab the decks but my heart’s not in it. Laundry goes in, yet another load in the endless cycle. I close my...