Books.

Sometimes I get these strange, yet overpowering urges to run out and buy tons and tons of books. I'm not even sure what kind of books. Just books, books, books, books, books!

My dream house would include one room dedicated to books and reading. It wouldn't have to be a big room, just one chalk-full of books. I want bookcases lining all of the walls and a couple of really big, overstuffed, comfortable chairs.

I'm still trying to make it all the way through Atlas Shrugged. I've discovered recently that when I don't have a deadline for reading (such as I have always had in school), I read at a rather leisurely pace.

This makes reading encyclopedia-sized novels much more time-consuming than the speed-read I have been most accustomed to. It is nice, though, to be able to read for pleasure, not for pressure.

Still, I'm ready to be back in school. I actually miss it. What can I say? I guess I'm just a freak that way.