I just can’t wait

Deciding not to get the hoover out after all, or sorting out that food shopping list, or even delaying writing the blog post that’s so urgent, can be a good thing. Other than providing some rest for the procrastinator, I mean.

It could be a sign that the book I’m reading is so moreish that I simply can’t tear myself away. Well, maybe I can, but I will be back in my reading chair much sooner than intended.

In a way it’s strange that I have to have thoughts like this. If you read for pleasure, shouldn’t all books be enjoyable as a matter of course? They should, but aren’t always.

Sometimes I haven’t thought the thought out loud until I find myself not creeping back to the chair to pick the book up again. And that feels so sad. And wrong. That’s when I have to think carefully about whether I should put the book away and start another one.

One that will definitely keep me from doing housework, and that I race to finish, only to be annoyed because I got to the end and I will have to find something else to replace it, and I’m certain I won’t be able to find a book anywhere near as wonderful.

Luckily, there are many anti-hoover books in this world. Shame about the others. The timewasters.

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