Of Tolstoy and Tom Yum Goong

I got a lot more shut-eye this weekend than I ever had, and it's high time I did so. I think I should start being nicer to myself.

But I couldn't really quite help it this weekend.

Four days of sweating it out, culminating in that gruesome session under the sun. I am suddenly looking like some P.E. teacher, though I'd like to think I give off vibes of a beach babe. But I'm also hobbling with a sore ankle and a loose knee, and I'm all hunched like a hei bi.

Yes, yes, that's the word: hei bi. All dried and dark and feeling really, really small.

And then, there's also the refusal to look into the computer screen. Barely five minutes of staring into the luminescence, and I just wanted to slump back into the pillows behind me. And then, voom! I'd drifted away.

And the feeling's so good, I'd forgotten all about it.

I dragged my groggy self out of bed at six Saturday evening, and headed out for a groggy thirty minutes on the road. Bad idea, actually. But it got the blood pumping, and the stomach growling. So I took my sweet time, showered and dressed up, and headed out to grab some cheap dinner and find some peace in my haven.

It's been a while, I told myself, so I allowed myself a treat.

820 pages for only twenty-four bucks. Yes, I'm mad but hey, it's a good deal, isn't it?

Then, the Sunday's been spent at that humongous-but-rather-boring mall with Momma (after a nap, of course) for a couple of hours. And that's when, after a rather mediocre Momsy's Day dinner of tom-yum noodles, I finally stumbled upon Page One which absolutely made up for it. And that's when I decided maybe that place wasn't that boring after all.

I love books. It's not so much about reading them, sometimes. It's about owning them, smelling the pages, fingering the crisp covers, admiring the fonts.

In another dreamy world of mine, I'd be running a tiny little bookstore - just like The Shop Around The Corner Meg Ryan ran in You've Got Mail. I'd be that kooky owner who has no qualm telling stories to kids or letting you sit there with your computer, provided you'd allow me some chat time.

*Snap*

Anyways, 820 pages. When will I get down to that?



*****

"Oh. You're in town alone? Not with boyfriend? Where's your boyfriend? No boyfriend? How can?!"

I hate men who ask "check-out" questions. That's so uncool.

And says who, I don't have a boyfriend?!