“When do you find time to read?”
It’s 10:45 pm on Sunday. Peter is sprawled across our bed and has so entangled himself in the blankets that I’m lucky to have the edge on which to lay down. He’s snoring. I escape to the living room, turn on the light and open up The Icarus Girl. I guess I’ll be able to finish this book without needing to renew it at the library.
It’s 3:30 am on Wednesday morning. Philip has awakened and turned on his TV. I’m laying on the floor of his room hoping he will fall back asleep soon. To encourage this, I keep the light off and read Fahrenheit 451 in the glow of Curious George.
It’s 5:15 pm on Thursday. I’m driving home from work and listening to The Poisoner’s Handbook. I’m just now learning that the federal government intentionally poisoned industrial alcohol to discourage its use in the making of moonshine. This policy has deadly consequences that get me a bit riled up. I ease off the gas pedal when I realize I’ve been speeding.
It’s noon on Saturday. I don’t know what I’ll be doing. Maybe playing outside with Philip. Maybe I’ll be sorting the laundry. Maybe I’ll be making lunch. Or maybe, just maybe, I’ll be stealing a few minutes to read a book. That’s because this Saturday, January 24, is National Readathon Day.
Swept up in the excitement of the Book Riot Read Harder Challenge, I immediately pledged my participation in the readathon. It was only after I made the commitment that I realized I had promised to spend the four hours beginning at noon to read a book. Ha! I’d love the luxury of a solid stretch of reading, but that’s not realistic. I steal time to read from those moments in the day when I don’t have to work, cook, clean or watch Philip.
When I announced my participation in the Read Harder Challenge, two different people asked me, “When do you find time to read?” This put me on the defensive. Were they implying that I must be sloughing off if I have time to read?
But I don’t have time to worry about what others think. There are books to be read.