Do you ever feel like you just have too much going on with work and family and volunteer hours and shows to binge and dentist appointments and… Of course, you do! We all do. It’s almost a badge of honor in American society to show the world how overworked and underappreciated we are!
But that’s not really the point of this post. I’m a busy person for a few reasons – it’s hard to say no to causes I feel passionate about; I want to make some extra money for amazing travel plans (like Scotland this summer!!!); the dog needs a lot of exercise or she ends up expending her energy on eating random things in my house.
And, honestly, I like to be busy. I don’t watch TV, so if I have downtime at home I’m either cleaning the house, cooking (which will require more cleaning), or reading books.
Reading books is the crux of my complaint. I love books. I love words. I love learning, whether from a text book or from fiction or from film or from a friend. (That’s a lot of alliterative f’s.) But, with all the time I spend ensuring the dog doesn’t eat my house and that I can afford more than a bothy in the Highlands, my available time to read for pleasure has decreased dramatically over the last six months even though I’m likely reading more than I ever have in my life.
How does that work, you may ask? Well, I’m freelance editing. And I’m beta reading for friends. And I’m reading slush pile submissions for my publisher. Which are all amazing opportunities for me to support my writing tribe and I’m extremely grateful for the way my life has turned out.
But sometimes…sometimes I want to read the books I’ve actually paid for. Read the books that have intriguing blurbs and gorgeous covers. Read the books that are sitting patiently on my Kindle until I have a free minute, or a free afternoon. Or a free six hours on a plane ride across the pond.
So, you know what I did? I took next Friday off work. And I’m not gonna do nothin’ but sit at home all day long and read a book. Or two. Maybe three, if they’re small.