the thing is, i'm in a hiatus of sorts. eugenides has to be writing another book or else i can't cure my book cravings. you see, i'm what they call (actually i just invented this) a serial book binge-er. when i was high on george eliot i read all her books one after another; the same thing happened with dotoevesky, and then balzac (excepted when i was thwarted by the library that didn't contain any and my pauperish state disallowed me to pay for new books). now, problem is, eugenides only has two books! horror of horrors! how do i go on feeding this cold craving that begins with gingerly selecting a book off the library shelf without thinking beforehand the consequences. why am i so dramatic? i should be going to bed now. tomorrow the weather had better be good because i've got to fix another endorphin addiction. tsk to the watery bombardments though actually i like the cold. i only dislike wet feet.