Am I crazy?

Don't answer that!

Once upon a time, I used to read. Books. Whole books, with chapters, many of them with no pictures at all. Lately I haven't read much of anything that isn't on the internet or in screenplay format. And that is not really good for the brain.

Last night I was pretty tired and my neck was really stiff and sore. So I took a nice hot shower to relax the muscles, slathered on the arnica, and got into my PJs. (OK, put them back on. I wear them pretty much all the time.) And found, of course, that i was wide awake.

So I went looking for something to read. My criteria: It had to be something I've never read. This might seem obvious to most people, but I have a major tendency to re-read. The only time I am guaranteed to read a new book is on an airplane, and I can't exactly fly somewhere every time I need to read. Besides, I usually stick to chicklit at 30,000 feet.

My choice: John Steinbeck's The Acts of King Arthur and His Noble Knights. A book that was never finished.

I am clearly mad.

Sitting in wait for the inevitable time that (should I actually read this one all the way through) I get furious and want to know what happens to everyone (I haven't really been around Arthurian legend since I was eight and saw a play about Camelot at the Woodstock Playhouse, which promptly burned to the ground) are T.H. White's The Once And Future King and Donald Barthelme's The King. So I think I'll be all right.

But what will my brain think of this fascinating new development?