According to GoodReads, I’m currently 6 books behind on my reading challenge. I’m only 20% there.
Admittedly, setting a goal of 80 books read in a year that I’m not spending at least partially unemployed, was probably a bit lofty. When I wasn’t working (funemployment), I was sometimes reading 4 books a week! (is there any way, short of winning the lottery, that this could just become my life again? You know, without that whole income issue?)
It’s OK though. I’m not a quitter. I have a plan.
Instead of struggling through books like Daniel Deronda (who I blame for singlehandedly putting me so behind) and Cleopatra: A Life, I will focus on shorter, easier reads like A Little Princess and Bossypants. You’d think that since I already have a tower of books that I haven’t read from my birthday spree, that I would stop buying books until I’d finished them. You know- to save money since I’m turning into a slow reader anyway and apparently don’t need any extra reading material.
But you’d be wrong there too. I just can’t help myself. I think it’s actually turning into an illness.
My point? Is that those are my books. And I’m not good at sharing.
I got my hands on a copy of Bossypants by Tina Fey this weekend as a sort of reward for slogging through Cleopatra: A Life. (which is well written and good and informative and stuff but I get confused easily with all the ancients.) Knowing that Tina Fey’s hilarity was waiting patiently for me on my bookshelf did actually inspire me to devote some serious reading time to the ancients.
And then? The Boyfriend was all “so I was reading the cover of that Tina Fey book and it actually looks really funny so I thought I would give that a read?”
Immediately I regressed about 20 years.
But that book is mine! I get to read it first! You just got a book (that’s right, one for him, 15 or so for me)- you have to read that one first! (Unbroken by Laura Hillenbrand in case you’re wondering.) What is happening?!
I gave in. He pointed out (quite rightly) that I’m sh*t at sharing and to prove him wrong (because in addition to being a book hoarder, I’m also always right) I let him have the book first.
On account of The Boyfriend wanting to start his awesome new book, we went to bed a little earlier. I’m trying to finish off the 70 or so pages of Cleopatra (I got through like 15) and all I can hear beside me is snickering, giggling, chortling and finally full out guffaws. Every few seconds, The Boyfriend pauses to look over at me, checks to see if I’m watching, shows me a funny picture, tells me that Tiny Fey writes 2 lines about her scar, he tells me a joke (only because Tiny Fey included my favourite joke of all time: 2 peanuts are walking down the street, one was a salted- get it? Assaulted/ A Salted? Kills me) etc etc
Sharing is HARD.
I can’t decide if he’s doing it because he wants to share the experience of the book with me or to rub it in that he managed to read it first. All I know is that he wants to get his hands on the travel Karl Pilkington book. And when he does?
Guess who’s reading it first? Giggling audibly the whole time.