Anxiety Dreams

Last night the Scottish one and I were discussing holiday plans after I’d had a day off with the prospect of this morning off, he will be working from home today which he infinitely prefers to working at work. It was all very relaxed and civilised with the end that we both slept badly, finally waking to report a series of anxiety dreams. Mine involved keeping enough wine in the right place – sort of a bottle version of Tetris, and his was about buildings falling down (architect), so I think I got off lightly.

Work dreams are nothing new, my first Christmas in a wine shop I woke myself up one night shouting out the price of peach schnapps – dreams about not getting customers out the door and still being trapped at work at 3 in the morning are not uncommon either (normally ending with me committing some fairly satisfactory act of violence) – but not in January when the day job is beyond quiet and the biggest problem in getting things done is finding enough things to do. February is far better; Valentine’s Day seems to bring out everyone’s inner drinker.

Sat down with a cup of tea in a favoured chair by a heater I couldn’t help but notice the table. Large pile of books gathered from various bits of floor waiting to go back on the shelf, two piles of books waiting to be read and to find homes if any shelf is left, small pile of books actually read. I know that there are more books on the loose, wandering about the flat, waiting to be gathered into these piles and dealt with in some way. It occurs to me (like a pile of books dropping on my head) that this might be the cause of the dreams.

Normally an accumulation of books like this is purely on the back of my own spending, in which case it’s easy to put them away unread until I want just such and such a book, but these ones are a bit different. Of the forty or so books acquired in the last month I have paid for about four of them. Most of the rest where presents, many specifically requested or at least heavily hinted for, and I want to read all of them. Immediately. A good proportion came from publishers, one or two begged for, which ought to be read immediately, and several unsolicited but which yet look so good that I want to read them immediately too. Where to even start?

At this rate I would have no need to buy any more books this year, but I’m planning to go to Astley book farm at the weekend and can tell you now that self denial is not the object of the excursion. I’m beginning to understand why bloggers set themselves so many challenges – it seems it may be the only way to keep on top of the books. I wish I still had a job where reading under the counter might go unnoticed on a day like today is likely to be, instead I’m going to have to try and look interested in what I’m doing (moving boxes from one cage into another pending next week’s new promotions – not very interesting but quite tiring) whilst trying to come up with a reading plan I can stick to. I suspect it will be like coming up with a diet I can stick to. Self discipline isn’t something that comes easily, so wish me luck, and in the meantime I’m devoutly hoping this is the worst problem the New Year springs on me, it’ll be a wonderful year if it is.