Quickly

I cannot believe I jammed my finger again by playing (touch) rugby. Seriously, you'd have thought I had learned my lesson last time. (Sadly, I didn't. Maybe this time the lesson will stick.)

I used to love, love, love mysteries when I was younger; I devoured them, reading them through as quickly as I could before moving on to the next one. I used to hand them to my mother was done; I turned her on to A.E. Maxwell and J.A. Jance that way. Sadly, as I grew older, I became less interested in mysteries and turned towards science fiction; I can't figure out why. Is it because the mystery plots became outlandish or because after a while, they all sort of seemed the same? (Hmm, I think I answered my own question there.)

And now, science fiction is leaving me bored and I'm hunting for new things to read. Cycles, gotta love them. In an effort to inspire myself, reading wise, I've turned back to mysteries... and I really mean back. I'm going to read all the classics, things I've never read but should have, like Agatha Christie's "Miss Marple Series." (I don't think I'll read the other ones, featuring the french detective; he leaves me cold. Kind of like the guy on "Law & Order: CI." You know the one I mean, the white, brown-haired detective who ALWAYS figures it out. I don't like that character.)

Anyway... as I mentioned before, I'm a huge fan of the "Miss Marple Mysteries" on PBS and when I realized I had hit another reading rut, I thought why not read those books? True, I'll know how some of them are going to end, but there have been enough changes in the televisionization of the novels that even knowing whodunnit, it'll still be a new story to me. I'm starting with Murder at the Vicarage and Why Didn't They Ask Evans?. I also picked up a non-Marple book, The A.B.C. Murders. Hopefully they'll keep me occupied for a week, which is what I need, since I'm going home to visit family for two weeks after that.

(Note to self: Tap & Gown should be bought, and soon!)

Well, damn. Looks like I'm a liar, because The A.B.C. Murders features that french detective guy. Now what do I do? Suck it up and read the book anyway, or return the book unread because the french detective guy pisses me off?

(Yes, I know that the french detective guy's name is actually Hercule Poirot. I just like my way of naming better.)