I’ve been reading Catch 22 as my bedtime book lately, and, while I enjoy the book itself for the story it tells, I happen to enjoy this book for another, rather special (to me) reason.
You see, I have been reading this book every night for weeks. And, for some reason, I never know where on Earth I am in the book. Every time I pick it up to read for the night, I flip through the pages, wondering where I ended last night. My bookmark is a small and thin one (foil), and so the page never just pops open for me. And, for whatever reason, I never can say on which page or even around which page I left off. I’m pretty sure I’m out of the double digits. I might be in the 200’s. But I’m really not sure about that. You see? Literally almost no idea. And – perhaps the silliest part – this whole idea comes up every night, where I wonder where on Earth I am in the book, and then why on Earth I still don’t have any idea of where I am in the book.
For some reason, I’m totally okay with it all, though.
For some reason, I really enjoy it.