I love to read. One really can't call herself a "writer" if she doesn't spend a good amount of time with her nose in a real, hold-it-in-your-hands book. Unfortunately, I haven't had time to read much fiction over the past year, and I'm extremely aggrieved by that.
I got pregnant February of last year, and if you recall I spent my first trimester with my head in a toilet. The only reading I got done was pregnancy magazines and books that reassured me that it was normal to have the dry heaves all day. Second trimester I caught up on some knitting projects. Third trimester I couldn't find a comfortable position to sit in to read because I was a behemoth. Fourth trimester Now I have an almost-three month old kid who keeps me up most nights.
I feel a tremendous amount of guilt when I try to read during the day because I know that there's vegetable oil splatter on the kitchen walls that need wiping and that the baby has run out of clean pajamas because they need washing.
To put this in some context, I've been reading the same issue of Martha Stewart Living since last Thursday and I'm only halfway through it. Yes, I could be reading now instead of writing this blog post, but what you don't know is that I'm also starting dinner and drying Rosco's clothes (because he succeeded at pooping on two changing pad covers in the past week). I'm also watching for the mailman who has a tendency to sneak up to the door to deposit packages ONLY on the days I have the blinds open. I don't like being stared at by people outside my house, so I have to skiddaddle into another room when the truck lumbers up to the box. You can't concentrate on reading when you're doing all that.
Hobby whore that I am, I'm also sorely behind on several knitting projects and scrapbook pages. I started a sweater for Rosco a couple of weeks ago that i'm making for whenever we get around to having that first family portrait done, but since his hair is currently falling out I don't know when that'll be. Chances are that when his "real" hair grows in, the sweater will be too damn small and it'll be another sweltering North Carolina summer.
Oh, and taxes. I've started working on the taxes, so whenever I have the courage to start up the program I'm using and to type in those deductions to make sure we get a few cents of refund back, that takes time from other things. I'm still waiting on a couple of tax documents (come on you slow fuckers!), otherwise we would have filed already.
What was I getting at? Oh yes - books. Look, I could spend hours in a Barnes and Noble store, and if told that I could only take one book home I'd break out into a cold sweat. Yet here I have a stack of novels whose spines haven't been cracked because all of a sudden my plate has become full.
When my house finally becomes clean after a year of neglect and Rosco is old enough to amuse himself, I'll still be making some excuse for not getting my reading done. Feh.
Posted by Tiffany at January 30, 2007 02:09 PM | TrackBack