My birthday is in a few weeks and, as is the way of things, I’ve been asked for a few suggestions for presents.
Apparently “nothing” isn’t an option though, so I did some thinking and googling and as ever came up with a few books that caught my eye.
The problem is that I already have 31 books in my “to read” list (which is missing a further 7 or 8 I think) so it seems a little pointless asking for more.
But the thing is, I like books. I do like reading I just don’t seem to make the time.
So I’m going to try scheduling some time for reading. I already have “get off your arse and go to the gym” in my calendar, so why not set aside a few hours a week specifically to get me back in the habit of reading.
That’s the plan.
It does seem, I dunno, wrong, to be forcing myself to read. Shouldn’t it be an enjoyable activity, something to while away a few lazy hours here and there? A way to lose myself in the depths of another time or place, escape the daily drudgery, and indulge my emotions.
All of these things, and more, are why I enjoy reading so I’m hoping that, by recreating the habit, I’ll re-learn the pleasure that can be had reading a good book.