Summer Reading

As a student, it was a pain. Somehow, it always snuck up on me, and for some reason, I always figured I could read all three or four books the week before school. In a panic, I'd even take summer books to work at the drug store and read in the slow times.

I never did get Employee of the Month.

I've always been a nerd, and that's something I've always been proud of. When other girls' daddies were calling them Princess, mine called me Nerdo. The truth is, I love to read... but something about being forced to read really got under my angsty, "rebellious" (how rebellious can a self-proclaimed geek be, really?) teenage skin. I wanted to read the Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants series, not The Great Gatsby or A Separate Peace.

In the same way that you don't appreciate nap time until you're in high school and well beyond cots and mats and vinyl records that play lullabies-- at least that's what we did at First Baptist Oneonta Preschool-- I'm just now really coming to appreciate summer reading. Dad comes to my room and asks how my unpacking effort is going... Oh, it's going. Or at least it will be once I finish this chapter of The Help. Alex calls to say goodnight, but I'll need to call him back just as soon as I find out what happens to Sookie Stackhouse.

And I wish I had a good excuse-- "I'm sorry, but I only have until next week to finish these books... or I'll fail." Now, what dad or boyfriend would want their loved one to fail? As that is not the case, though, I get exasperated sighs from anyone expecting me to get out of my warm chair, remove my cat from my lap, and put my book down to do something productive.


The moral of the story is... Productivity is overrated. If you need me, I'll be reading. Do Not Disturb.