I'm making my way through books at sloth speed these days.

Both of my current ones are slow reads—Gissing is too gloomy to gulp and it would be criminal to rush through Richler's young narrator's obsessions and literary allusions—but I've also been experiencing a succession of extremely strange and annoying library patrons the past several evenings that leave me venting and fuming once they've moved out of hearing rather than capable of immersing myself in the pages of anything I'm inclined to pick up. After spending a big chunk of time in a wide-ranging I Don't Understand People (Like That) conversation with a co-worker this afternoon I feel much better, so much so that I'm undeterred by the fact that I managed only a scant dozen pages in Gissing today and still don't understand people one bit.

And no one irritated me at all tonight. That's a clear sign that I'll be back in reading stride by tomorrow, don't you think?