I’m not much of a New-Year’s-resolution-type person. Goals, to-do lists, action plans; these are things I can handle. But year-long resolutions seem doomed from the start.
However. This year, I knew there was one thing I absolutely, positively, without-a-doubt wanted to do all year long: read. a. lot.
I probably read more books than the average person, but I always want more. My Goodreads account says I read 17 books last year. When you subtract the cookbooks and the ones I didn’t finish, that number drops to a little over one a month. And I know I can do better than that.
So this year I decided to set some kind of reading goal. I considered a book a week, then realized that was crazy. Two books a month seemed closer to what I was looking for but felt a little dull. And then, “ah-ha!” I thought. A book for every year I’ll celebrate on my birthday. And, okay, I had to actually calculate what birthday I’d be celebrating next because, apparently, once you reach your late-twenties, you seriously start to forget how old you are and it’s kind of scary, and really weird, but still manageable.
Turns out, I’ll be 29 in December. So that’s my number. 29 by 29. Let’s do this thing.