Zen and the Art of /.*/

I long ago signed up for an account on LibraryThing, but never got around to actually entering all of my books. A recent friend request from a real-life friend and coworker prompted me to revisit the site.

Taking advantage of the fact that I recently bought a barcode scanner for the sake of taking inventory of pull-tab boxes, and using it as a good excuse to further postpone other nagging responsibilities, I spent a couple hours scanning in my collection of books.

I was at book club again tonight (booksandbars.com) for probably the first time in 6 months, which was in turn probably the first time in the 6 months prior. Every time I go to book club, I see great people that I have not seen in too long and get to discuss delightful topics over pleasantly potent potables.

But every time I go back, I have a hard time explaining why it’s been so long. I always feel like I’m making excuses, usually some variation of “I’ve been really busy,” which always feels like a cop-out.

Of course, that is in fact the truthful proximate cause–I am damn busy. As my friends like to give me a hard time about: “I got shittodo.”

But this is certainly not the ultimate cause.