Feeling very out of it

I've been reading Patricia Briggs novels non-stop this week. I've read four in a row. When I finished the first two putting down the book felt like coming up for air: gasping and disoriented, and for a moment the silence of the water follows you above the surface and you can't hear anything except the water sluicing in your ears. And slowly, very slowly, that false quiet retreats.

Today I finished the fourth book and still feel like I've been swimming all day. My body is tired and achy, presumably from spending so much time curled up on the couch reading.

They're great books -- I never would have so submerged, or sat so long, if they weren't. But I'm in desperate need of reconnecting with the outside world.

August, in my world, in home improvement month.  I've been building bookcases.  Well, I've built one and if my foray into the real world goes well, I'll have purchased and built a second one sometime this weekend.  I've already reclaimed my coffee table -- it was serving as a bookshelf more than a table -- and a few other spaces.  With another shelf, I'll have much more useful space in my living room.  It also means continuing to throw out the useless and give away my not all that small collection of literary journals.  I'm quite excited with the bookcases and the purchase of several small items such as a new kitchen rug and a cheery placemat to go under the cat bowls (they like to play in their water and make me a mess).

Last year at this time I cleaned and organized my closet.  I even pulled out a large amount of clothing to give away.  This year, I'll actually give it away.