I read the first two Stieg Larsson books last summer.
I loved them.
Loved like stayed-up-until-7am-to-finish-the-book loved.
Loved like I’d-follow-you-to-West-Virginia-for-your-career loved.
And now the third and final book in the series is out.
It sat on my shelf for a long time, waiting.
I had to be ready for it to be over.
I’m a big believer in the next big thing, the thing that will change my life.
I get lost in “what if?”.
The soundtrack swells,
the hero jumps into a taxi and races to the airport
because finally it all came together and
Now He Knows.
I don’t see the plot points in my own life.
I have a hard time believing I’m making any headway.
I’m not sure my character has an arc; it may look more like Farsi.
There are a lot of things I am certain will transform my life.
A new purse. A yoga class. Anything from Anthropologie.
There is always something new and shiny.
I will be me, only better.
I finished The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet’s Nest last night.
The anticipation is over.
I think I need to go shopping.