It's not quite the end of the year yet, but I'm calling it as far as reading goes. The remainder of 2017 will be filled with family, packing, moving, and unpacking, so I don't have high hopes for finishing any more books.
I knew when I set my goal of 75 books that I was being ambitious. Would I be me if I hadn't chosen a lofty goal? that's a discussion for my therapist, not my blog. Regardless, set the goal I did, and fail to meet it I also did. I should be disappointed, but I'm really not. I read some truly fantastic books, and re-read some perennial favourites. It was a delightful reading year, as my Goodreads score will tell you: 4.6 stars on average for the books I read this year. How can I complain about that?
My goal for 2018 will definitely be lower because I'm pretty sure newborns don't care about reading goals and just demand all of your time regardless of where you are in a book. There are tons of books that are releasing in 2018 that I'm excited about (that'll be another post), so I do plan on getting my baby snuggle on while reading, it just won't be as voluminous I'm sure.