Reading and Numbers

I'm supposed to be reading right now. I've got something around 1382 pages to read before Monday the 28th. Usually, I call 13 my lucky number (I know luck has nothing to do with it but it's fun). However, in this instance, I don't believe it is [lucky]. Maybe it's the 2 at the end there...twos aren't good.

I love numbers. I act all superstitious about them but I don't really believe in all of that. Some of it, maybe, like how 7 is the perfect number and 3 is the number of God and 5 is the number of grace. That's all Biblical. But how people get super weird about it, that's not really real. I just like to play around cause it's fun watching numbers and looking for patterns, and finding them even if they aren't really there [in a superstitious way]. Thirteen is awesome, the best number ever. Thirteen, four, seven, and three are all good numbers. Any odd number is good. With the exception of four, most all even numbers are bad (including, sometimes, numbers ending in four). Actually, I never really thought about a system or anything -- I never really gave that any thought until just now -- but it seems I do have one of sorts, just not one that's easy to explain.

Anyway, enough of that. I need to be reading. But what am I doing?

I'm reading.

Oh yes, I am. Not right now, obviously, since I'm typing this post. Before that. Just not what I'm supposed to be reading.

I've been reading Anne-girl's blog and I simply can't stop! I love it. In fact, I've added a few posts to the lists on My Penslayer.

Roddy and Eric and Lywin and Annike and Miles and Barney and Binker and all the other lovely characters I've been reading about or from. Excellent. Beautiful.

Now off again to other worlds.

Slán a fhágáil, a chairde