Yesterday afternoon, I curled up on the sofa with my current book. I’m nearly done reading it so, as is my habit, I had two others nearby, nominees for the next book I will read. At some point, T came downstairs and found me there, asleep with three books on my lap. When I woke up, she teased me about it, amused that I took to the sofa with three books, as if some sort of book apocalypse might befall me there in the living room.
I defended myself by pointing out that I am nearly done with the book du jour and was auditioning candidates for my next read. She laughed but I could tell she thinks I am a crazy book lady. As I am in fact a crazy book lady, I took no offense.
I record books that I have read on Goodreads and, in keeping with my competitive spirit, participate in their yearly Reading Challenge, whereby you pick a number of books you expect to read in the year and the app records the books. This morning, I logged in to record the book I finished the night before.
At this point, Goodreads informed me that I am behind in the reading challenge for 2020. Though this is an entirely artificial matter and there is neither reward nor bragging rights involved (I am private on Goodreads and so no one but me sees it), I am quietly freaking out. Behind on reading? Me? What will become of me? How will I face myself each day? And most importantly.....How can I read more?
It is ironic that this terrifying news happened less than 24 hours after I fell asleep on the sofa with three books in my lap. I feel like Goodreads needs to check in with T, who can attest to my bona fides as a good reader.
No comments:
Post a Comment