I left the house without my book this morning.
For those who aren't as addicted as me, this is the WORST thing that could possibly happen. During week nights I usually don't have much time to read. While I can usually sneak in an hour or so when the writing center is slow, between grading stacks of essays, and during my office hours, the nights are barren. However, last night was a special treat. It was "conference week" for my Monday night writing class; in other words they could come in if they were worried about their grades, but there are only four of them and they're all doing fine. No one showed up, so I got home around 6:45, ate some leftovers, and settled into my reading chair with Special Topics in Calamity Physics (has one of the coolest websites ever. Click and see.)
Many of you who have read this blog for a while, might've noticed a trend. I shy away from long books. The reason? Teaching fives classes spread between two different schools has taken its toll on my attention span. Undoubtedly I was THRILLED when Special Topics, in its 500-page glory, grabbed me by the nosehairs. I'm currently right around page 330 and flying through.
Well, until today that is.
So after I logged some serious reading time last night I was even MORE hooked on the book. I was getting to some really mysterious, creepy, thought-provoking, climactic bits, and I even took the book to bed with me to squeeeeze in a few more pages before I killed the lights.
When I placed the book on B's nightstand (closest to the door, easiest to notice in the morning) I tried to log a mental reminder to put the book in my bag this morning before leaving.
Even though I NOTICED the book while I was getting dressed...FIVE MINUTES before I left, I still didn't remember to put it in my bag. It's still there. Sitting. Alone. Waiting for me to get home tonight (at 10:00 when I won't want to read it). I would equate this great reading tragedy with one of those moments in the Julia Roberts movie, Something to Talk About, when she is too overrun with thoughts of her divorce to actually remember to put her child in the car with her. Her sister chases her and and reunites mother and daughter in a wonderfully comic moment. But this is not comedy, kids. Oh no, I have forgotten my book, and THAT is a shameful and regretful turn of events.
But my story does have something of a happy ending. Since I work in a college and spend three hours of my day in the mezzanine right over the library, I can check stuff out on whims. Great, wonderful, dashing whims. When I decided that Little Women (my emergency office book stash) was a slog today, I ran downstairs and checked out O Pioneers!, by Willa Cather, and I think I'm in love! I knocked off a good 80 pages in no time, and now that I'm done running copies of the final exam I'm giving tonight, I'm gonna dive back in. Special Topics has competition.
Excuse me, won't you?
Yep, book love. It's a fickle, fickle thing.