I bought a book today.

It’s the first time I’ve bought myself anything for weeks. I didn’t even want to buy it, I’d prefer to get it from the library, but since our book club meeting is on Monday and I’m still 48th on the waiting list, I had no choice other than to not read it. And it’s been over four years of monthly book club meetings and not once have I missed a day or not finished the book. I can’t very well mess up a streak like that, can I?

I’m concerned about finishing it, though. I have plans to visit a friend this evening, and tomorrow, Saturday, begins with training for church promptly at 8 a.m. (This is what happens when you get yourself involved with a church plant.) Later in the afternoon I committed to seeing a high school play that one of the youth group members is a part of, and David and I have a double date with my parents planned for Saturday evening. Sunday includes church and a family dinner, so at least I should have that afternoon to read, in theory.

I think I can do it. Right now it’s Friday afternoon. I’m well-rested and my dogs are sleeping. I already cleaned the kitchen and paid the bills. The whole weekend stretches out ahead of me like a promise.