I lay awake in bed at 5:30 this morning as the windows shuddered and the wind howled. The cats prowled restlessly and the old radiators whistled and creaked. Back issues of Creative Nonfiction, the latest issues of Esquire and Vanity Fair, my new copy of The New New Journalism were in a loose pile next to the bed. My Kindle was plugged in over by my dresser. Nine books were on the shelf behind my pillow, in alphabetical order by author’s last name.
I had spent the previous three days growing increasingly freaked out by Frankenstorm-related tweets and news stories. Now, as I lay there cuddled up to my husband, I wondered aloud:
“Do you think I should download some more ebooks before we lose power?” [Read more…]