I never really defined myself as having an addictive personality. But upon reflection, maybe I should. Because now, I can't seem to get enough.
It all started innocently enough. Sister leaves book at other sister's house. Hey, read this and then we can take Mom to the movies. So the temptation and desire started with another form of media — the moving picture. So I blasted through the first book. Kept picturing Tom Hanks, but that was okay. Saw the movie. Enjoyed — but I think only because of the other form of media — the printed word.
Fast forwarded through book two. Returned borrowed book club book to neighbor — loan time approximately 2 1/2 years. Hey, the twins were babies! Mention what has happened to my dear journalism-degree friend. Another book club book dropped off (why is everyone else in a book club??). Almost didn't even need a bookmark for that one.
Perhaps it's the timing. Son #1 is learning to read. Read. Oh my gosh! I know how to read! I learned how to read for fun a LONG time ago! This huge epiphany occurred. I absolutely love reading fiction. It feels so invigorating to me right now. I'm transporting myself to all these places and characters' minds and, wow, what an escape. What a tipping point.
Speaking of which, I'm heading downstairs to pick up my next read.
