I have just come to the startling realization that I do not own Wuthering Heights. My favorite of the Bronte novels, the quintessential Byronic, I-just-want-to-hole-myself-up-with-lightning-in-the-background-and-rage-at-Cathy’s-moronic-actions-and-then-cross-my-arms-in-smugness-because-now-Heathcliff’s-available novel. Or at least, that’s how it is for me.
Anyway, I dug for about fifteen minutes, came up with six other books I should read in the near future (Les Miserables unabridged; Life of Pi; The Last Lecture; This Way for the Gas, Ladies and Gentlemen; The Wit of Oscar Wilde; This New and Poisonous Air, in case you wanted to know), but no Wuthering Heights.
Presently, I’m not sure what to do about this problem except to pout about it. Easy enough, as I’m already missing Dick Clark and dreading my New Year’s 5K tomorrow.
All that aside, the true purpose of this post should probably be to lay out the future of Eight Days a Week. After all, this blog was created for a 2012 New Year’s resolution, and the resolved duration was only a year.
However, although I’ve shirked, and although this is only the 293rd post (is it possible that I dropped that many days??) and not the 365th, I love the darn blog too much to drop it permanently. I hereby resolve, then, to keep things going indefinitely, to blog even more in 2013 than I did in 2012, and to generally whine less about paper writing and Leonardo DiCaprio.
Happy New Year, friends. Thanks for reading.