I can hear the questions even though the room is silent. Since I haven't mentioned it in the past 30 seconds, am I reading anything at all? Have I given up on novels forever, or just until school relents its endless cycle of reading, writing, and 'rithmatic?
I do occasionally put down the textbook in order to escape the world of dendrites and axons, ecological imperialism, and irregular verbs that end in -re.
I'm reading a new book that combines knitting with murder. I know! Awesome.
It is awesomely bad. A woman who owns an alpaca farm is murdered, and the main character is her friend who discovers the body. When this woman then talks to her (other, alive) friends in the knit shop the next day, they are not rattled or sad. The meet, talk about knitting, and contacting the dead woman's grown daughter, among other topics. This main character is the crack amateur who will solve the murder. It is ridiculous and great because it is easy reading that I don't have to retain and be tested on later. Try Needled to Death and tell me you don't feel the same way.
It's a good escape from learning the difference between ligand-gated channels and voltage-gated channels.
Not that I don't love them both.