I flew on a plane all by myself last night, and in a hasty, last minute decision, I grabbed about six magazines that had been crammed in to our magazine rack. I’d saved these guys, hoping that one day I might have ten to fifteen glorious minutes to read an article or two. Well, that time came last night. Man, was it nice. Sure, the articles aren’t even relevant now, having been published months and months ago. But it felt good to read something other than A) Sally and the Purple Socks, B) my usual dose of celebrity smut, or C) something on the Internet. Reading something more, uh, “adult” got my brain working, cleared away some of the cerebral dust that has accumulated in there, and forced me to take care of Me for a while.
I can remember reading a shitload when I lived in NYC. Yeah, I didn’t have kids back then. But I also had all of that commuting time on the trains and buses. It was time granted by the forces of mass transit transportation. Now? I spend my commuting time behind the wheel, listening to songs about rabbits and rocket ships, joking with my two monkeys in the backseat while simultaneously fetching a fallen sippy cup.
I really need to jump back on this reading bandwagon. Perhaps turn off the television earlier in the evening, shut down the laptop and carve out some more time to read at home. Dig in to that stack of books I have saved under my nightstand. All of those books, collecting dust, sitting there and mocking me.
Once I’m done with those, I’ll be on the hunt for something else. What goodies do you suggest?
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