On most days I recognize that I have a good job, even a cool job on very good days, and I'm fortunate that my job allows me to travel. "Allow" isn't quite the word, though. Force. Yes, that's it. Forces me to travel. And not Business Class like the glory days of consulting. Coach. That only bothers me on long-haul flights where complementary upgrades are a thing of the past. New York to Boston? Upgraded every time. New York to SF? Never. But I digress.
The real point of this post is the challenge of picking out the right reading material.
I'll be gone two nights in a city that isn't known for night life, or life of any time of day for that matter, so books are even more essential than usual. Dennis Lehane's Gone, Baby, Gone is certainly along for the ride. Hobsbawm, though? Do I really want to spend my time in a Rustbelt city reading about the evils of capitalism? I can't bring another Lehane because I'm metering his books out slowly and I know I'll need one for that trip to Portland next week. Martha Grimes is the ticket, her books are always better read than listened to anyway. Along with Red Mutiny on the Shuffle I'll be set.
The truth is I'm agonizing even more than usual because I know that the Kindle I've ordered will make all of this worry unnecessary. One small device, 2,000 books; even I can't be disappointed with that. I've already been trolling the Amazon Kindle store picking out ebooks. All those books I've been neglecting to buy because of finite bookshelf space need be neglected no more. Not only will they have a home, they'll get to travel too. Coach, of course.