I remember once having the luxury of reading a book a day. Once home, I would kick off my shoes, grab a book, and nestle on the couch. Only the threat of “no TV” could tear me from my books. ‘Time-out’ was a bad discipline tactic because well, that meant ample time to relive the bookish adventures.
That was when I was just a metre tall. Life has since filled my plate higher than I could at a buffet.
But I miss reading. I miss flipping the pages, catching a whiff of eau de papier and guessing how aged the book is. I miss just letting my mind wander with the characters and getting drawn into the book.
So, I have set a new resolution. Not a book a day – I would have to quit my job and become a full-time reader. But two books a month. I promise to regale you with tales of how good (or bad) the books were!