For as long as I can remember, I have identified myself as a reader (unlike me as a writer, and yes, I see the irony in me writing this statement). I’ve always managed to get lost in books. Maybe it’s my imagination- I love to get new material. My parents used to joke how I become transfixed when watching television. I’m closed off to the outside world. The same thing happens when I’m reading a book. I just soak up the adventure so much that I really am in my own world. This is also the same reason I have to stop myself from reading sometimes because I literally cannot stop reading. Like- I don’t sleep or get work done kind of situation so I need to put an embargo on it so I can be a functioning member of society.
Well, I did just about the worst thing possible: I started a series.
Ugh-a series means that there are multiple books all seemingly available at my local library for me to just dive through. I really hope the next one has a waiting list so another force can help me put a pause on my binge reading session I’m currently having.
But- if this wasn’t happening then it wouldn’t have brought me to my slice this evening. There is another secret on me that I’m about to share…who knew I had so many secrets or that I would divulge so many in one short month?
Here it goes:
I’m a closet bathroom reader.
Yup- the bathroom is my sanctuary that I retreat to whenever I’m trying to get through a chapter and keep getting interrupted. Of course this only works now that my children know what privacy means. My sanctuary was seriously invaded when they were younger. These young intruders had no idea that sometimes mom just needs a moment, alone. But we are finally at an age where I can isolate myself for 3-5 minutes- just enough time to finish a chapter.
You see, I have a history of reading in the bathroom. One infamous memory that my grandma recently reminded me of was that fateful night at the cabin. I was nearing the end of a book (probably The Babysitter’s Club as my grandma had scored an awesome deal at a garage sale and purchased the ENTIRE set of that and The Babysitter’s Little Sister… and now I just realized that I am old enough for a “what’s old is new” since that series has been revamped and the current “must-read” for every kid right now…ouch)
Anyway, it was right before bedtime and I needed to read just a smidge more but was being reminded that it was my turn to get ready for bed. So I brought the book in with me and I finished the chapter. And then I started the next because how can you just stop when the next chapter waits so peacefully on the next page just begging for you to take a glimpse of what is coming up next?
Well I must have been in there for awhile because once I left the bathroom I encountered a sea of impatient faces.
“She was reading!!!” my older sister accused. “No I wasn’t!” I retorted.
I’ve never lived that moment down and I’ve denied it all of these years…until now. I guess the bathroom cannot be your private sanctuary when it’s the only one in the cabin and everyone is waiting to use it before bed.
Now I’ll need to get back to reading because another chapter awaits before I finally get some rest.