I used to be able to lie on my bed and read for hours and hours on end until I was dizzy and disoriented--and I would do it daily as long as my mother didn't interrupt me with her fears that I would become fat and lazy. I guess she was right. Anyway, I don't have much chance to do that anymore. Yesterday, however, was a blessed exception--I spent two hours in the afternoon burning through the Roald Dahl Omnibus, and then another two or so in the evening to finish it. What bliss! And they're such delightfully snarky little stories, too--just the way short stories should be. A few are a little too creepy for my taste ("Pig", "Skin", and "William and Mary"), but others such as the classic "Lamb to the Slaughter" and "The Great Automatic Grammatisator" can't fail to please the reader.