Sometimes, life happens and I find myself without enough time to read more than a couple of pages a day. And those days are just depressing.
Take the past two weeks for example. I had to travel for purposes other than leisure and spend a bit over two weeks away from home. You’d think that a four-hour flight plus time spent on a train on my way to the airport would provide an excellent opportunity to finish that Amy Tan novel I started before leaving. Well, not so much.
First, it was a Saturday, and the train was so packed that I spent an hour smothered by people who travelled standing right next to me. One hour of having to listen all about the hen-do the girls were on their way to. No chance to read.
Next, the plane. When you are heading to the boarding gate, you kind of expect to see and hear screaming kids, but being seated near more than one plus a guy who liked to bite his nails for hours can truly damage one’s reading libido.
Finally, on my destination, I find out that the AirBnB flat I have to spend two weeks in has no other lights than the ceiling ones and god knows how I feel about reading in that kind of light. All in all, not a reading-friendly escape, and I can’t wait for it to be over. My reading spot waits for me at home and it’s the thing that keeps me sane. Just eight more days – I’ll be lucky if I finish the novel I started.