Bright light! Bright light!

Hey Jakey,

I've noticed these every time I've gone to Barnes and Noble, and every time I wonder, "Who the hell buys these things?" Book lights. I mean really. These contraptions look about as useful as the yogurt maker in the back of my pantry, or maybe the baby-wipe warmer I never took out of the box. If ya need a light to read a book, turn on a frickin' light and read your damn book!

Needless to say, I bought one, and it has been the most fabulous investment I've ever made.

I love to read. Not necessarily books that are good for me, but I can plow through airport fiction like nobody's business. I've read less and less in the past couple-three years. It's easy to blame it on you kids, but it's mostly me, choosing to turn on the tv instead. A pretty mindless activity, one that I can slip in and out of, while watching the two of you or doing stuff around the house.

But, since you've been gone this week, I've pretty much left the tv alone, and your sister and I have gone to bed quite early. We turn the lights out, and while nursing her to sleep, I flip open my book, switch on the itty bitty book light and spend the rest of my night blissing out to mostly junky horror novels.

No more sitting on my bathroom floor in the middle of the night to catch up on a few pages (Jake, that won't sound quite so tacky to you, because you know how relatively plush my bathroom is...) or no more useless squinting at the words while sprawled in bed, trying to angle my book toward the nightlight just so.

To celebrate my new discovery, I've bought the following books this week:



Dan Simmons because he is "classy" horror, and the book is a beast at 765 pages. Should keep me good and busy for a while. Joe Hill because I *have* to check out the son of Stephen King. Finished this one first, and I was impressed. Craig Ferguson, because he is cute as a button, and I enjoy his late-night show. The container gardening book because I need all the help I can get.

Tomorrow you come home to me. My greatest fear is that you will come home and realize that you would rather be with your grandma, and that you will cry and pitch a fit when she leaves, prompting your smug grandma to insist that I hand over custody of you.

I'm steeling myself for tomorrow's events, whatever their outcome. Love you, dear heart.