I hate to admit it...

But I’m STILL reading that horrible book. You know, Dragon Rider by Cornelia Funke. I have tried putting it aside, and I have tried ignoring it, but the fact that I have only read half of it eats at me on a daily basis as I stare at it here on my cubicle shelf. It sits there and mocks me. Mock Mock Mock. So I pick it up and think to myself I should be almost done with it by now how much longer can this book drag out... and then I find my Orlando Bloom Book Mark smack in the middle of this 523 page book. NO! As of lunch time today I’m on page 293. I’m just over the midway mark.

Why does it drive me so crazy to just walk away from a book? Especially when I already think it is no good.