For as far back as I can remember I have loved books. I devour them. When I'm reading I become completely immersed in the story. My husband and children can be standing two feet away from me saying my name in a perfectly normal tone of voice and I don't hear them. I don't even see them because I am IN the pages of the book. It takes finger snaps and hands waving in my face to break my reverie.
And it REALLY annoys me. Honestly, unless the house is burning down around me, someone is bleeding to the point that death is imminent or a limb has been severed there really is NO reason to disturb me while I'm reading. You'll only serve to get yourself snarled at. And risk bodily harm when I realize that you interrupted me to ask me where some inane object, that has no significance whatsoever to me, is. Look. For. It. Seriously. God gave you two healthy eyes. Use them!
Books are my escape from reality. They served me well through a tumultuous childhood and an angst filled term in hell. Otherwise known as my teen years. I am always blown away when someone tells me they would love to "go back to high school" just for a day. WHY????? My high school years were so far from fabulous that fabulous wasn't even visible off in the distance. There was a brief period of time, during my sophomore year, where I can honestly say I was truly happy and it didn't last long enough.
But I digress...
Books. Reading. According to my mother I was reading simple sentences by the time I was 4. I question her memory sometimes but if she says I was 4, I was 4. My memory of that time of my life is fuzzy at best.
I can spend hours browsing in the library or a bookstore. And left to my own devices I can easily drop $100-$200 on books in a day. I don't do that all too often because my husband would have my head. Ya' see.. I can read an entire full length novel in under twenty-four hours. I go through phases where I literally finish a book a day for weeks on end. I have a pile of "to be read" books that is somewhat obscene in it's size so I have plenty of material to choose from. And yet... I still bought NINE books today.
Don't have a cow dear.. six of those were bought at Gently Used Books for about $2 each after my store credit from the large box of books I brought with me to trade in. I love to buy books but I'm frugal to a fault. (I also bought quite a few books for the kids.)
So those nine books are sitting next to me and I'm going to pick one... and lose myself in someone else's story. Because my own is too difficult to focus on right now