When I was in 11th grade in high school, my English teacher shared a quotation from Ralph Waldo Emerson: “A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of litle minds.” That immediately became one of my favourite quotations because I’m as inconstant as an autumn day.
I don’t know if it’s the bipolar or just one of my quirks. I’ll be passionately fascinated by something and will spend a lot of time immersing myself, studying, figuring things out, almost to the point of obsession. And then one day I’ll wake up and I’m tired of it. I’m finished. Ready to move on to whatever the next thing is. This isn’t necessarily a good thing, and nor is it necessarily a bad thing. It’s the way it is. It’s the way I am.
You inherited it from me. I was on a Dick Francis binge until suddenly, in the middle of a book I had bought instead of getting from the library, I was through with him. Ditto John D. McDonald (or MacDonald; I never can keep those straight.)