I'm sooo bored this weekend. I caught a stupid cold, which makes me feel crummy and not leave the house. So I've spent the whole weekend here without doing a whole lot. Now I'm going out of my mind, but nothing even sounds remotely appealing to pass the time with.

I thought I would read a book that has been sitting on my living room table for about a month now, and it really does look interesting. The problem is, it's a used book that someone gave me, and I don't even recognize the name in the cover, so it's been through a lot of people. But the pages are wrinkled, the binding is lose, and there's a strange stain on the back. Now, I'm not a germaphobe, but I can't bring myself to snuggle on the couch with said crusty book. Who knows where that book has been? Ick.

I know. I'm odd.