Book Hangover!

It's Saturday night and I have a book hangover.  

Do you know what that is?  Let me explain.

First of all, the fiction gods smiled down on me after my recent rant about bad horror fiction.  I discovered a new author by the name of Mark Edwards.  He's based out of Great Britain and his books are usually centered around London.  And he's amazing.  He's written Follow You Home, Because She Loves Me, and the very chilling and nerve-wracking The Magpies, which, in my humble opinion, is his best.  

So, I started devouring these books.  I started with Follow You Home, which was incredibly gripping with its tension and twists and turns, and then read the Magpies.  Yesterday I followed up with Because She Loves Me and I read it pretty much all day until I finished it.  Which lead to a book hangover.

A book hangover constitutes that feeling you get when you've read too much, because you can't bear to tear yourself away from that juicy novel.  Tired, grainy eyes.  Aching neck and shoulders.  Perhaps a headache. That bloated feeling from eating a bunch of snacks that you normally wouldn't eat, because they're convenient and you can't be bothered to cook anything while you're in the depths of this fabulous tale.  Irritability, because you don't want to be interrupted while you're reading.  And then guilt.  Because you get to the end of the day and you realize that it's dark outside and you haven't moved your butt more than three feet in any direction and you suddenly understand that you have been reading the entire damned day.

Oh, the hedonism.  The pleasure. The sheer debauchery.  The cheese puffs and the Hershey candy and the pizzas and the root beer.  The homemade guacamole from HEB and the big comfy chair.  Or couch.  I think I gravitated between every comfortable surface in the house today while reading this book.  And you know what?

I'm.  Not.  Sorry.