I have my monthly book club meeting tonight. So, like the cliche that I am, I found myself up at 1am desperately trying to finish the book on time. It’s funny, that.

I’m a huge reader—

(less huge since quitting my 2.5 hour daily commute)

(which you will never find me complaining about EVER)

(because even though it was awesome to read copious amounts of books, it was 2.5 hours that I could have been doing something more productive than trying not to notice the naked man in the trench coat trying to sell me a can of coke and attempting to avoid the whole sardine situation)

(more productive! Writing about my girl crush on Mary Kate and Ashley Olsen! Writing about the most devastating TV character deaths—raise your hand if you weep every time you hear that Hawaiian version of Over the Rainbow! Writing about this past week’s penultimate episode of Mad Men, where poor, poor Lane Pryce makes a tragic, tragic exit, and CreepyGlen returns—with a mustache!)

—and it was actually on my bucket list to be a part of a book club, along with such things I have accomplished this year, like eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for the first time and riding a horse for the first time. I wanted the whole experience of getting together with the same group of people every single month and reading books that I wouldn’t necessarily read otherwise and talking about books, but, you know, talking about all kind of other things. Also…baked goods.

I have been trying, over the last few months, to time my book reading just so so that I would still remember the actual book and not confuse it with all of the books I read that month because, honestly, there’s nothing like sitting and talking about Seattle circa World War II and confusing it with Seattle circa crappy Christian and Ana sex. So, I pushed this one off until the last minute and then I had a night this week when my husband was playing hockey and I had big plans to sit and read this book—All Other Nights by Dara Horn—which is 1000% my kind of book, it’s historical fiction with some real people mixed in there, like, you know, President Lincoln, but then I don’t even know what happened and I accidentally hit play on netflix and ended up staying up until 3am watching three quarters of the first season of LOST.

Stupid LOST rabbit hole. 

So, last night was a late night.

But I have no complaints about spending an evening curled up in bed with my kobo, a bowl of popcorn as big as a small child, and some chocolate chili chai tea. I’m like this dude.

Blissfully sitting at stoplights on the Allen playing instruments while short, Jewish ladies in Hyundais take semi-discreet iphone photos.

Not a care in the world. Life is grand.

AND I’m fully prepared to discuss the crap out of this book. And eat baked goods of course.