Feeling icky

I have been up for several hours, just being lazy and scrolling through Facebook posts.  WHY?  I have no idea, but as the song says, I just can't seem to get moving.  I'm hungry, but don't want anything that I have in the house, nor do I KNOW what I want to eat, so that's a problem.  Bleh.  I had promised myself that I would take down Christmas today and pack everything up.  I have to clean the walk-off rug that one of the visiting pups "christened"  I need to go to the grocery store and do laundry, but I am NOT feeling it.  I am wasting my time on Facebook.  Maybe I am NOT really wasting time as much as stalling for time.  I am "visiting" with my far away friends.  Yeah, that's it.

I have been edgy lately and wonder if the changing season has affected me. I feel restless and unsettled.  Maybe I just need a good book.

I have been reading "I would have loved him if I had not killed him" a gorgeously written novel with Gothic overtones.  It's slow going for me, but I am trying to get the pace of the novel and really read it, not speed through it.  I have been listening to books on tape a lot more lately.  They are great for the ride to and from work.  I waded through Alice McDermott's "After this" and wondered why I bothered.  The novel was a slice-of-life piece, well written but unsatisfying as to the conclusion.  There really wasn't one, to tell the truth.  No real point to the story except to examine the life of a family over the course of many years.  I suppose that is why I like mystery novels so much.  There is a conclusion.  There is a problem and a solution, all tied up in a neat bow.  Except for Agatha Christie.  I hate Agatha Christie.  HER solutions never allow the reader to come to a conclusion before the denouement.  She always withholds some key piece of information and has the detective spring it at the Big Reveal. ugh.  I want to try to come to the conclusion myself, then go back to see where I missed it in the reading if I did not get it.  The "aha" moment in the book, if you will.

I stopped listening to "How right you are, Jeeves" as the narrator was bugging the crap out of me.  His "American" accent- supposed to be a New York playboy sounded more like Monte Montana.  Totally WRONG and annoying and as the playboy is a major character, I gave up the book in utter disgust.  I did the same thing with a Fitzgerald novel a while back.  The reader had some weird tic that was driving me crazy and after about ten minutes, I realized that I could NOT be trapped in the car with this reader for one minute longer.

I wonder what my friends are reading and can recommend.  Anyone have a book to take away the Winter blahs?