Well, here I am again, explaining my blogger slackerism. Once again, I've been caught up in a book series. This month, it's Lynn Austin who's got me hooked. She's a Christian who writes historical fiction, and I'm caught up in the Refiner's Fire series. In fact, as I write this article I'm on the phone with my wonderful husband, asking him to run to the library before it closes to get the next book in the series. I feel somewhat like an addict, and maybe I should be ashamed, but I'm not. I am rather desperate and at times pitiful. I have been known to stay up reading until my eyes hurt, only to deeply regret it a few hours later when I have to pry myself out of bed. My husband tries to warn me (as he hands me a new Dean Koontz novel) that I'll hate myself in the morning, that I'll be miserable as I trudge along bleary eyed and cranky. Who is he kidding? He may as well change his name from "Wyatt" to "Enabler." Not that I'm complaining, I know he's right. I know I need to change my ways. But then, it's not in the knowing, is it?