Confessions of a Readaholic
This morning there’s a layer of slime about a centimeter think on my contact lenses, I’ve got the shakes, and I’m sweating profusely. Yes, I’m totally gross, but I’m not sick. These are the side effects of staying awake until two in the morning reading, not being able fall asleep until four because I can’t stop analyzing what I’ve read, and then having to get up two hours later to get the kids ready for school and myself ready for work.
I know what you’re thinking. If you knew you were going to feel disgusting the next day, why did you do it? My answer… sometimes I just can’t help myself.
So here’s my confession. I started reading at about five o’clock last night and didn’t stop. Because of my obsession, I let several phone calls ring until voicemail picked them up. I left a load of whites in the dryer, which are now probably wrinkled beyond salvation. My kids wanted to play video games and eat cold cereal for dinner, so I let them. And I got no writing of my own done. Crap.
I think my mom gave me some kind a bad gene because she used to do things like this. One of my sisters is the same way too. Yes, I think I’ll blame it on my mom. She’ll only laugh when I tell her.