… of Houses and Leaves

I am a bad reader. Which is to say that, I can read – words tend to make sense when strung together, and I can comprehend their meaning ok – I’m just not good at actually getting through an entire book. Which is a much longer way of saying I lack dedication when it comes to reading.

My wife and I have been downsizing, throwing out things that we’ve not used or looked at in years. Last Saturday she found a book in her pile that she wasn’t sure if she’d read or not. It wasn’t a thin book by any means. By the end of the day – a good five or so hours later – she’d read it. The whole thing. Cover to cover. It’s an amazing feat and something that constantly impresses me about her. I once spent a whole day watching her hate-read one of those Twilight books. A thick one too. I knew she was hate reading it, because she spent the whole day staring it down with a look that suggested the book had just walked into our house without knocking and shat on our carpet. She hated it, but she read it all. Every last word.

Continue reading “… of Houses and Leaves”

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