Lockport Union-Sun & Journal — “Chapter 1?” I yelled to my wife. “I thought I was half way through the book and I’m only up to chapter one.”
“Well,” she asked, “what page number did you read just before that?”
“Hmmm, let’s see,” I said, curiously turning back to the previous page. “I just finished page XIV.”
So I did my little grab-the-pages-I’ve-read-so-far trick and realized I had a long way to go. A v-e-r-y long way to go.
In fact, I’ve a strange feeling several more wars will be fought and books written about them before I finish reading this one.
I think the last book I read had two brothers in it: The Hardy boys. I did the same book report on that sucker all through grade school and college.
In fact, one of my professors thought it was excellent.
“That’s the funniest thing I’ve ever read. Handing in such a juvenile paper as a serious project-report is nothing short of genius. It made my day. You’re lucky I have a sense of humor. Thanks. Now give me the real one.”
For someone like myself, who writes a weekly newspaper column, I’m a disgrace.
Ironically, I’m actually in the process of writing a book. It’s based on an Italian Renaissance artist whose heavy drinking leads to bizarre symbols in his art. Unfortunately, when he sobers up he has no idea what they mean. I’m going to call the book: “The Da Vinci Load.” Thank you.
Maybe Joyce is right. I should probably just read a book.
The bottom line is: I don’t see myself finishing the one I started. But the good news is: the three-legged sofa in the workshop is level.