I absolutely love to read. I figured that I have hours of uninterrupted read time on this getaway, if I want it, so I snagged a book yesterday . . . . a book, it turns out that I have already read. Ugh. Is this part of aging?
I have been wanting to watch the series Big Little Lies for a while now, but I was still finishing out some other shows that my husband and I had been watching, first. My husband seemed to have a lukewarm response to the idea that this should be our next series to watch. He is not a big fan of Meryl Streep. (I am.) So, when I saw the Big Little Lies book with Nicole Kidman and Reese Witherspoon and Zoe Kravitz on the cover, I thought to myself, “Cha-ching!” I usually like books better than the movie or show versions that are based on the books, anyway. I thought to myself that I’ll just luxuriate and read to my heart’s content, with no interruptions, like kids or dogs wondering what is for dinner, or the doorbell ringing, reminding me of yet another package from Amazon to unpack and put away. Wonderful!
About 20 pages in, it dawned on me that I had already read the book. I turned to the copyright page. It said that Big Little Lies was published in 2014. That was only five years ago. My memory is getting that bad that I couldn’t remember that I had read a book that I read probably less than five years ago! Oh my.
I am going to continue to read the book. Obviously, I have forgotten a lot about it, although I vaguely remember the ending. I know who the guilty party is . . . . don’t worry, no spoilers. I even think that I still want to watch the show. By the time we get around to watching the series based on the book, I may have even forgotten that I have read the book . . . . twice. I suppose the big little lie that I am telling myself is that if I turn this all into a big joke and others can laugh along with it and relate to it, this aging thing won’t scare me . . . at all. Big little lie.