Seems like there are always so many books I want to read. Ever feel that way? I always have two or three beside me, one in the car, a few beside the bed, etc. My purse is too heavy because there’s a book in it, or an iPad with a hundred books and the potential for more. And those are just the ones I want to read, not the books I must read for literature class or book club. Those are always on top of the pile and usually keep me from what I really want to read.
Then there’s work and life, yes those pesky obligations that keep us from our daily reading. But ahhh, when that glass of single-malt is poured, and the lamp is clicked on and the book is opened, I am at peace.
But for now, there will always be more and more books, and yes, I still scour used-book stores for more. I can’t pass up a bargain for something I would want in the future, something that will keep me company with my glass of amber liquid and softly glowing light in an otherwise dark room.
So here I sit, in a small office as I work, with many books keeping me company. “We’ll be here when you’re ready,” they seem to say. “Take your time.”