So, picture this. The day is over, you’re at home, dinner is done, if there are kids at your place they are in bed, the night lays ahead in all its wondrous possibility. It’s perfect reading time of course!
You settle in to a cosy spot with your book and a cup of tea, looking forward to an uninterrupted few hours of quiet reading. You open your book and read a page or so, and then you remember something you wanted to quickly check online, so you grab your phone and start tapping away. Next thing you know, an hour and a half has gone by and you’ve only just looked up from your phone, and you can’t quite believe that that much time has passed without you being able to recall what it is you’ve actually been doing. Another night of maximum reading potential, lost. AGAIN.
Does this sound familiar to you? Even if you replace reading in the story with some other favourite pastime that you would like more time for. Yet for some unfathomable reason, whenever you actually do get a window of opportunity to indulge in your hobby of choice, you seem to subconsciously sabotage it!
I don’t know why I do this, and possibly I should just teach myself to turn my phone off and hide it/hand it over to someone else/bury it. The reason is not because I’m not enjoying the book/s I’m reading, because I do this even when I’m deep in love and suspense with a story. Perhaps I’m just too curious a person to stay away from the internet for more than two minutes? Perhaps I really do just have too much to check/research/manage online that I can’t afford the time away? Or perhaps on some level, I can’t quite believe my luck at having a whole 2 or 3 hours free just for reading, and because it’s too good to be true I just throw it away instead?
Anyway, whatever the reason, writing this post has just cost me a good 20 minutes’ reading time. If you’ll excuse me…..