Oh dearest blog, non-existant readers and one follower - how I have neglected thee over the last few months! I offer forth my most profuse apologies.
Confession # 14 I've become a book addict.
Try not to laugh. Addict might sound extreme but it seems the most fitting description. I have read some where in the neighborhood of 19 books in the last two months (at least that's what I can remember, there may have been a handful more in there that I've forgotten). I was not even mutually exclusive to one author, style or genre. Historical fiction, romance, biography, mystery, suspense. It didn't really matter. I had them all! Sometimes more than one in a day! Without thinking about the consequences I let the compulsion overtake and consume me these last two months. Is there a clinic for this? A 12 step program? I'm sure there's a TLC show about this somewhere.
Call it an obsessive compulsive disorder, or the by-product of an addictive personality, but in between work, raising a family and the banal tediums of every-day life I went on a reading frenzy.
I have yet to come with an explanation for the sudden compulsion that caused me to forsake essentials of human survival such as eating and sleeping to satiate the overwhelming desire to read. To escape into fiction and one very, very funny biography. I had to drag myself into every day life, fighting always the urge to lapse back into whatever piece of literature was nearby. My husband resigned himself to the television which I'm sure was an interminable hardship for him ( insert sarcasm here) but I credit him for putting up with it. I do believe I might have married a saint.
I ask you to reserve judgement on what this says about my grip on reality or my personality as a whole.
I think maybe I'm restless. Or crazy. You decide.
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