I read a whole book

and the fact that this is the first book I have finished since summer, and probably just the 5th since I started college is the least remarkable aspect of it all.

Because the book I read, from page 1 till the end, was written, in a non-dumbed-down way, entirely in SPANISH.

Yes, I have completed my first legitimate trek through Spanish prose in its original, unaltered form. It was good. And fun. And Gabriel García Márquez. No, not Cien años de soledad, desafortunadamente (I love that word--8 syllables!!!), but Crónica de una muerte anunciada, which was quality in its own right, owing to the genius of its author. You all might have heard of it as Chronicle of a Death Foretold.

It took a bit of time, not going to lie, but it wasn't intolerably hard. It's probably the last one I'll ever read, just because I don't foresee ever having the time or reason to do it again. Still, it's nice to have done it, and though it was never something on my to-do list, now I can say it was -- and that it's crossed off since it seems like a life achievement of some merit (TWSHIT).