It is an all-consuming obsession, and I am voracious. A veritable glutton. An addict.
I am insatiable, unable to consume the words fast enough. My eyes race along the pages, eagerly devouring the story. If it were possible to become obese on literature, you would find me, confined to a bed, the weight of stories trapped in my head making it impossible to leave the room, able only to lift the book (another book) to my face. Fueling my obsession.
Right now, I am surrounded by books. Good books, mediocre books, terrible books waiting for their spines to be cracked, their pages turned, their secrets to be discovered. They are lined up on shelves, stacked on end tables, piled next to the bed. I cannot pass a display in a store without leaving with some new treasure, to be tucked away. (Budgets are weighed briefly in my head, along with the possibility of slipping it onto the shelf, unnoticed.)
They tempt me at every waking moment, and at every opportunity I am an addict getting her fix. I grab the closest book, if only to snatch a paragraph or two before returning to a job at hand. The story echoes in my head as I move through the routine that is our days - play time, diaper changes, mealtimes, trips to the park. House cleaning has fallen by the wayside - nap times are better spent satisfying the endless craving. Evenings find me burrowed on the couch, tearing through the pages once again.
I finish a book. I ponder writing down my thoughts but cannot bring myself to put pen to paper (hands to keyboard) and instead pause only briefly before grabbing another, already tempted by what is hidden within. Vacations and trips away are carefully plotted. Books are lined up and their relative merits (good story, weight and heft, sequence in a series, genre) compared before whittling it down to the three, or four, or five that make the final cut (before the just in case book is hastily stuffed in the bag on the way out the door).
Is it possible to have too much of a good thing?
I'll let you know. I just have to finish this book first.
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Written for Anne, who has kicked my butt and urged me to write something, anything. And as a bit of an explanation and apology, for being so lax in both my writing and my visiting lately. So what are your current obsessions?