The Unreadable Pile

My pile of "to be read" material has now grown to an imponderable height.  There are reasons.  First, I've been receiving a steady supply of books that I am to read and review.  These are not my choices, but my work--and it's tough reading for fun when I have to read in order to write.

However, among some of the titles I do hope to get at in the next few months are:
Dune, by Frank Herbert
The Hunger Games trilogy
Unbroken, by Laura Hillebrand
Home, by Bill Bryson
The Collected Works of John Masefield
Giving 2.0 (a nifty business/non-for-profit book I am dying to read!)
My Father's Tears, by John Updike
and many, many more . . .

Seeing this pile every day, it is obvious that I won't get through this stack before acquiring more titles, and still more.  The pile will grow.

Becky always asks me, "When are you going to pick up all of those books?"

Short answer:  I won't.  I won't be doing this any time soon.  I doubt I will ever do it.  And with my bad back and ailing knees, I can only lift so many books in a day. 

I suppose I could always go on a book diet. But how would that look . . . me eating a book with milk or ripping out pages in order to dip them in guacamole? 

You see what I mean?