I’ve tried.
Really, I have.
It’s only in the last two weeks that I’ve fallen behind.
Up until then I’d read every article from every New Yorker for the entirely of the quarantine (more or less.)
But it finally caught up to me when I got sucked into the world of Neil Gaiman’s Neverwhere.
All it took was one more-than-nothing book that I couldn’t read in only one day, and I fell – toppled down headfirst into a pile of pages that couldn’t be sorted through easily.
I’ve not got three issues plopped on my work desk, which is really just a living room table that I’ve laid claim to and converted over (no wonder my back always, it’s hunched over a creation that was never meant to be what it’s used for eight hours a day.)
Only one of which has even been opened yet, and I’ve hardly found the final page. How could I expect to ever win the caption contest on the back if I’m not even seeing the cartoons to write for?
Really, The New Yorker is good journalism. It’s a shame that I don’t manage to find the time for more of the reading that I deserve.
I’ll work on that.
After I finish Avatar.
.
.
.
Micah Mabey
