For me, reading is a necessity. An integral part of each day. Almost an involuntary action akin to breathing. Happily, this isn't quite as strange as I feared while a child. Gustauve Flaubert said, "Read in order to live". Lady M.W. Montague said, "No entertainment is so cheap as reading, nor any pleasure so lasting". It is my escape, my solace, a way to start the day, end the day, and pass almost any minute of the day. I take a book with me every place I go, on the slim chance I might be able to grab three minutes and gobble up another chapter. You name the place or activity, and I've probably had a book there.
Which is why this past week has been so extraordinarily painful. I'm short-tempered, cranky, fingers twitching. All because I'm jonesing to read. On top of a regular full time job, my latest book is releasing in two weeks (which means I'm spending every second setting up promotion for it), and I chaired a gigantic fundraiser for a charity organization, which meant being out every night until 10 prepping for it, then coming home and firing off emails for an hour. And that kept me out of the gym, where I usually toss back half a book on the elliptical machine. Long story short....no reading. Not even over the weekend, since the fundraiser took up two days. Had to skip my weekly trip to the library, since I had nothing to return, which is an unheard of occasion in my house. These are dire times, indeed. No reading!!!!!
How do people live like this? I'm about ready to cash in a sick day just to stay home and read something. Because my push for promotion continues this week, and cleanup from the fundraiser rolls on until at least Thursday. Honestly not sure how much longer I can hold it together without getting my fix. Has this happened to anyone else? How on earth did you manage to plod through this endless desert without cracking up?