I should never neglect my book reading habit.
Sometimes I do neglect it, when I'm busy or overwhelmed. But every day that goes by without reading books drains a little bit of Me-ness from my orb of being and doing. I start to feel a little dull, a little gray, a little frayed around the edges. Where my imagination usually soars like a mecha-dragon, now it crawls along like a zombie-slug. I am too normal, and a little grumpy. I start to view my life as a series of things that have been done and things yet to do. I have devolved into a hive drone.
And then, I realize what's missing. I head straight to the Kindle store or, you know, the actual book store, and I purchase a fix.
By the end of the first page, I am settling into the familiar cocoon...
About 20% in, I can feel the old me wheels turning...
In the contented lull just after the Second Doorway of No Return, but just before the Climax, I approach the embodiment of my Final Form.
Climax. Denouement. The book ends. I have wings and enough Me-ness to keep me going for a couple of weeks.
I'm feeling the drain presently, and mentally shuffling through my book reading records, it occurs to me that I have not read a novel since January! Luckily, my Kindle is stocked up with as-yet-unread books I downloaded for such emergencies. I predict I'll spend much of the next week snuggled up on the couch with some delicious science fiction.
Can anyone relate?
Also, NEW GLASSES!
(So not only will I be able to get my fiction fix, but I'll be able to do it without going all blurry-eyed and getting a migraine.)