The best and the worst thing about being in the middle of a great book is that I don't want to do any of the other things I am expected to do. Little things like work and prepare meals and interact with other humans. I just want to read my book. Is that so wrong? Is it really so bad if I steal away to the bathroom for 30 minutes in the middle of the work day? How do you know I'm not suffering from a debilitating stomach ailment? I should buy one of those fart machines and set it off every few minutes while I'm in there to scare people away. Wait, that's brilliant. Anyway. I love my book, but it's so hard to find solid chunks of time to devour it. All those hours wasted sleeping, sigh.
I wish I could remember the first book that got me. The Secret Garden? A Summer To Die? A Nancy Drew mystery? I just always remember reading. My kids are decent readers, but both would find it easy enough to set the book aside when their phone pings. I guess I'm guilty of that lately too, which is embarrassing. I've got to prioritize and make sacred my reading time. Nobody do or say anything interesting of facebook tonight, okay?
My boy has recently started reading Stephen King, which is so awesomely cool and amazing. I tore through all of those books in high school, what a treat to have them ahead of him. He's currently reading Apt Pupil, one of the four novellas in Different Seasons. Creepy shit, that story. He'll love it! I'm going to recommend Firestarter next. Or The Dead Zone! Christine! I'll ease him into The Stand before even telling him about 11/22/63.
My girl and I don't exactly share the same taste for books. Sure, she loved The Outsiders and The Art of Racing in the Rain as much as I did, but her passion lies in the young adult dystopian melodrama. I caught her reading in her room at 1am when she was finishing the Divergent series. Weeping. At least she knows how to prioritize and make sacred.
It's good to love a book.
Now may I please get back to it?