One of my reading corners at home. I share it with the cat.

During a highly profound teary deep and meaningful with my best friend at the weekend, I blurted out that all I wanted to do was curl up in a corner somewhere and read. By myself. No interruptions. No responsibilities gnawing at me. No guilt. Just me, a good literary chick-lit book … and maybe some chocolate healthy snacks.

Is that so bad? My friend didn’t think so. In fact, she thought it was such a great idea she wanted to join me, until she remembered the aforementioned “by myself” clause. And the fact that she lives 4000+km away …

Two of the Fab Four have been demanding on my emotional and physical self for a while now. They’re 17 and 15, and dealing with typical teen things such as “What do I do now that school is finished?”, “I’m not sure how I can fit cleaning the bathroom into my busy schedule”, “Why can’t people accept me as I am, shaggy hair and all?”, “Even my tourism teacher thinks the class is stupid, so why do I have to go?” and “Why do I have to catch the bus?”. They’re also dealing with a few other big issues they really need help with – I know I’m lucky they come to me, so I wouldn’t change that at all.

My battery’s just in need of a bit of a recharge, that’s all. It’s running at half-power. And since I can’t really run away for days (nor do I really want to), I’d just like a few hours to read something that will take me away from worries and work. Something not too heavy, not too light … it has to be just right. Something that will help my shoulders lift, my face to relax and the smile to drift up from the mouth to the eyes … you know, it’s funny, but as I type this I’m sitting up straighter.

What’s even funnier is that even if I was given this gift of time and a reading corner, I’d probably waste it. Especially at home, because the family, chores, bills and never-ending to-do lists would whisper in my ear and I’ve never, ever been good at ignoring those guilt-riddled whispers. No, I’d need the reading corner to be somewhere else where the whispers couldn’t reach. Chance of that? Slim to none, I’m afraid. About as big as the chance I had of winning the Lotto tonight.

Do you ever feel like this? Do you have a particular book or genre that helps in times like these? Do you have a special place that you take yourself to read? Or do you feel guilty if you take some precious reading time? I’d love to hear what you think.

PS. Thanks for “listening”. I feel so much better now. Really.
PPS. I’ve been reading a lot, even if it hasn’t been in a corner somewhere over the rainbow.
PPPS. I’ve even written some one review, which will go online in the next day or two.
PPPPS. Thanks again for listening.




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