Weepers and Creepers

Last week I read two older books by Nicholas Sparks ... "The Notebook" and maybe the other was "A Walk in the Park."

Any-who, they were not fun. They were sad, weepy, maudlin tales that set me back weeks on my road to being depression free.

But, happily, three chapters of a Tami Hoag mystery "The Alibi Man" has me back on the right track. I am ready to iron shirts, grocery shop, clean out the skimmers ... and generally do all the things I hate to do ... as a pledge that when I finish, I can read.

Yes, settle down and read a good ole murder in which I don't have to agonize about morals, or the right or wrong thing to do, or worry about what young sweet thing is going to die of a dreaded disease ... for I know she will be brutally killed and usually isn't truly a sweet young thing ... albeit, she may be young.

A salute to all mystery writers, for they are my escapism.