The last day or two I've been a complete mess. A big nose-honking, blubbering mess. Why? I've just read The Time Traveler's Wife by Audrey Niffenegger. I started reading it on Tuesday evening, finished the night off with a huge bawl, and then, once the Galumph had gone to work on Wednesday morning, placed Grumbles in front of a Playschool DVD (which I let her watch TWICE in a row! Oh, the shame) whilst I sat in the hallway, still wrapped in my husband's dressing gown, and heavingly sobbed my way through the rest of it. Even just thinking about it now is making me go all teary. Poor Henry. Poor Clare. And she was just so... true. And good. Much better than I think I could ever be if my husband was a time traveller who kept popping off to goodness knows where, and sometimes I had to wait for years before I would see him again. I would be so angry, and tired, tired, tired from it all.
So the main feeling has been that of fragileness. It's been a while since I was dragged through the works like that by a book. In fact, not since I finished The Pursuit of Love by Nancy Mitford have I been so broken up. I spent so much of last night just rolling over to give the Galumph big tight cuddles, until he finally put his hands on my shoulders and said "Honey, I'm not a time traveller. I'm not going anywhere!" "I know", I sniffled back. But then the phone rang at 11:30, with some guy from the UK calling Galumph about a critical work problem. He was gone for quite a while, so when he finally crawled back into bed I mumbled triumphantly "You DO time travel - you've just been in Bristol for a hour, and left me all alone!" Poor old Galumph. He had no answer for that one.
Anyhoo, brilliant book. Although I hope there's no sequel or anything. Ms Niffenegger, I just don't know how much more my poor, squeezed-out heart could take. Now I must go and rub moisturiser on my sad red nose. Next time I read a book that unleashes Niagra Falls, I'm going to honk away on a good quality hankerchief, not recycled toilet paper like I did this time. Good for the environment, not so good for the schnoz.
Also, I think I might print out Alicia's marvellous summer reading list, then hit the second-hand bookstore this afternoon. Sucker for punishment, I know.