My book club days have been numbered, which is about as devastating as that time someone stepped on my foot at my wedding and ruined my perfectly pedicured phalanges. I had rhinestones on my big toe for Christ's sake!
Oh. I just admitted that out loud.
With the new job comes new responsibilities, of course, and that means covering common council meetings on the first and third Mondays of each month, the former Monday being book club Monday.
Boo, man. Boo.
Plus, I don't know that you've ever been to a common council meeting, but the last word I'd use to describe such an event is entertaining. And now book club is no more.
So now that 32 percent of my raging social life has been axed, I decided it's time to mend the damages. I asked a few coworkers if they'd be interested in starting a book club.
I haven't yet decided if book clubbing is an acceptable form of a social life, but I'll get back to you on that. And if it's not, I didn't ask your opinion anyway.
In the meantime, my book club idea is still an infant waiting to be fed, but I'm rather excited for the potential. Mostly because my local social life consists of driving to and from work, and my road rage is totally wrecking any chance of making friends there.
But the girls at work are prime friend potential. And one of them runs. Also, being journalists, we're all on the same grammar-geek boat, and there's nothing cooler than hanging out with people who can fathom the distinction between "there," they're," and "their."