How books take over my life

I love to read. I read practically anything. Before I had kids I read non-fiction. I tried to continue reading non-fiction but it is hopeless. I find that I really need to have long periods of uninterrupted peace and quiet to do justice to non-fiction. With small children I simply don't have that time.

So then I moved on to sappy romances. They were easy because it really didn't matter if you read the whole thing. In reading these romances I finally found some authors that offered a bit more meat to their stories. Instead of the conflict being between the man and the woman the conflict was external and usually involved murder, theft or espionage.

Now I am completely worn out with romances. I think if I read one more I will melt into a puddle of goo. While at my Mom's house I noticed a book. The Messenger by Daniel Silva. Cool. I borrowed the book from my mom. I had read the Prince of Fire a couple of years ago. So it wasn't a totally new item for me.

After finishing the book I went to the library and checked out all the books they had on the shelf of Daniel Silva. There were six in all. I'm about to finish the last one. Usually I leave my books at home but at that point now where I am compelled, even driven to finish the book. In my car I have a stash of children's books that I use to entertain children while we wait for siblings at the various activities in our lives.

Everytime I pick up a book I tell myself to savor it like a fine wine. I do pretty well in the beginning but then it hits. Something catches me and I become driven. I can't get too far from the book. I'm a sucker for the climax. I'm a climax junkie. I hate to put the book down until it is resolved even if I figured out what the end is most likely going to be. It happens with almost every book even the non-fiction.

At this point I find myself bringing the book in the car. I read it at stop lights. I read it in a queue of rush hour traffic where we are stopped dead on the road. I read it waiting to pick up the kids. When I finish it I get such a feeling of remorse. It's like I've lost a good friend. I feel empty. Lost even. So I move on to the next book and make the same promise to myself.