There are plenty of reasons why people don’t read as often as they like. I fear, my reasons are no different than many others’. I read plenty these days–though Chicka Chicka Boom Boom and But Not the Hippopotamus aren’t exactly on my reading list. Don’t get me wrong, I love that Madi has finally, at 20 months old, started to love reading books.
The toddler isn’t my only excuse, obviously. I mean, she’s barely awake 8 hours a day (she’s a sleeper!), so I’ve got the time. But then I get wrapped up in the housework or wanting to spend time with Nick in the evenings or journaling or cross-stitching or budgeting or going for a run or [insert any other possible excuse here]. I guess reading had simply just dropped lower and lower on my priority list in the past couple years. I could make time for it, I just don’t. And there’s no one to blame but myself. Not that I blame myself, until I get charged the overdue fines at the library because I haven’t even started a book I’ve had checked out for more than a month 😲
Truth be told, I’ve been a bit better the past few months. I’m going to a bookclub at the library every month, so I read three books for that this year alone–much better than in years past.