I read too much

Okay, I decided I read too much. I read when I'm getting ready in the morning, when I'm working out, when I'm walking around the house, when I'm waiting in offices, when I'm eating, when I'm going to bed, and until people from church started noticing and honking at me, when I'm walking down the sidewalk.  I listen to recorded books when I'm driving, when I'm walking, when I'm trying to fall asleep, and on one rarely discussed occasion, when I massage a very deep sleeper.  I read everything, kids' books, teen books, chick lit, mysteries, crime novels, weird hippy books that want to prove a point, silly little girls' series, and all those books that I loved when I was a kid... over and over and over again.  Sad, but true: I've read The Sleepover Friends as many (probably more) times than I've read The Hobbit.  And John Grisham as many times as The Chronicles of Narnia.  

Here's how I pick what I'm going to read:  

I walk to the library with Caleb.  I tie him up outside.  This causes a minor disturbance, as he wants to lick everybody that walks past, and everybody that walks past wants to pet him.  (This was especially disastrous the time that traffic court and children's story hour let out at the same time, crowds were streaming past him, and he got so excited he broke his leash and ended up running around all over the inside of City Hall, which unfortunately for me shares the building with the library.  But as the other option was tying him up outside Sesame Donuts, which also shares the building, you can see why I chose the side that I did... little did I know that felonious drivers and their doggie-hungry children would soon be released from the whisper-quiet prisons.)  

So, because the dog is hyper and on a short leash tied to a garbage can, I need to make my trip inside the library quick.  As I'm walking through the doors, my backpack is coming off my back and ready to receive.  

I go to the kiddie section.  (The novels, not the picture books.)  I go to "A."  I start at the beginning and pick the first three books that I have not yet read- checking to make sure they're not a sequel to something else I have not yet read.  They go in the backpack.  (FYI, I am halfway through the B's.)  If I have tied Caleb up outside a window where I can keep a covert eye on him from this room (I usually have), I go over to the picture books, pick the first five that I have not yet read, sit down at a table, and spend the next five minutes torturing the dog through the window by very thoroughly appreciating all the wonderful pictures and small sentences that picture books bring whilst very casually and carefully ignoring his pleas through the window for me to come release him from his garbage smelling prison.  I'm a wonderful dog mother.  I give him an obligatory tap at the window as I leave the kiddie section, because I love him.  (I am not even a quarter of the way through the A's yet in the picture books... mostly because even though I talk big, I feel sorry for the pathetic little muppet trying to break through the glass to sit on my lap so I cut my reading time short.)

Next, I go to the "youth" section.  This is where the teenager books live.  Stuff like "Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants" and "Twilight" and 500-page epics about dragons named Eaineos or some other such nonsense.  I go to the A's and peruse from left to right again until I find the first three books that I haven't yet read (checking again for sequel spoilers) and put them in my backpack.  I'm a little over halfway through the B's here.

On to "fiction"- this is the adult fiction.  Not the dirty kind of adult fiction, but big thick books that think they're important, intellectual, or full of enough swearing or illicit affairs to be considered big people reading.  I find most of these books pretentious, especially the ones written by people with only one name, like "Arameus" or "Shaman".    I read them because every once in a while one surprises me and I find that an adult can actually have something to say to another adult.  But usually I blast through these impatiently because I much prefer the books for younger readers, where the author is trying to entertain me instead of educate me into their realm of higher thinking.  Honestly.  If I wanted to learn, I would go to the nonfiction section.  (You'll notice I avoid that section.)  Entertain me, people.  When I want to learn, I learn!  Don't try to sneak your opinions in on my fun time.  At any rate, I start, you guessed it, with the A's and pick the first couple books I haven't read, minus sequel spoilers.  (I hate reading things out of order.)  I only pick two of these books, though, because I can't read them as fast.  Into the backpack.  I'm hovering between A and B here, because I usually only get two of them at a time.

One last section.  I go to "new books" where the books are labeled with a little sticker showing the date of their release.  I find the oldest new books.  I grab everything with the oldest month sticker on it (usually three or four) and eliminate everything that's a sequel, and... in the backpack.  

Now, if you're doing the math here, I have anywhere from ten to twelve books in my backpack.  There is one last stop- audio books, where I start with A and grab the first books that look untedious.  I'm a lot pickier about these... a high number of CDs and bad cover art will deter me quite quickly.  (I should point out that while almost nothing is off limits when I pick up all books, I usually skip over anything that looks like a fantasy and most science fiction... I enjoy having a large vocabulary and hate those books because when I read them I end up adding fake words to my already pretentious word bank.  You know, "orc", "flayrah", etc, etc.  Once after reading Watership Down I spent about a month talking Lapine and not even realizing it.  Speaking of, I love that book.  Not because of the very important lesson it teaches us all, but because it's fun to imagine the warrens... sort of underground Swiss Family Robinson Treehouses.  Oh, and Swiss Family Robinson... never read it.  I believe I'm digressing.  Oh, yes, audio books.)  Anyway, I pick up enough audio books to top off my backpack so it is full to the top of the zipper.  This is very important, becuase it's usually raining when I do this, so the plastic coated CD cases protect the books from the damp backpack on the way home.  (When I get home, I load the CDs onto my mp3 player and return them.  I have a stash of about 12 books waiting in my laptop to be listened to.)

And now I have my treasures.  It takes methe time of the walk from the audio CDs to the self checkout (our library rocks) to pull out my library card.  I hate the checkout desk, I get real tired of saying stuff like, "yep, road trip, I need all these CDs," and "yep, I read them all" to the ladies there.  They're nice, but anybody will stare in disbelief at a stack of 15 books and 5 audio books when you check it out.  So I check out, stuff my backpack, and head out the door.  Caleb by this time has had at least three minor cardiac episodes as little children walk by and their parents force them to ignore the wet mangy mutt that is drooling at their bright pink Crocs, so he is more than happy to see me.  He usually stands on his two hind legs with his two front feet in the air until I get there, then he slams his paws on my leg, ensuring that upon arriving home my pants go straight to the washer and he goes straight to the bathtub.  And we head home.

But wait, there's more.  If I get through all those books (I usually do) before they're due and we do this walk again (every three weeks), then I go to my shelves.  Ahh, my shelves, full of the Ramonas and Charlottes and Laura Ingalls of my past.  Yes, sadly, they're in alphabetical order by author, so I pick the first one I haven't reread in the last year and... I'm off and running.  (I'm in the S's, in case you were wondering... and I started at the A's of my shelf in February.)

So, you can see why I decided not to take up space in this blog with all the junk I read.  I've already bored you enough with this account, yes?  (Some of you slightly weirder readers enjoy such details of my way-too-boring life, so that's why everybody had to suffer through this.)  But some people (readers) are always asking what I'm reading and how I like it.  Now that you know how I choose what I'm reading and realize that I'm not doing it for any personal betterment but rather entertainment... you readers might not care anymore.  But just in case, because this is my readabookaweek year, I added a link to a book blog where I will rant and/or rave about everything I'm reading... which is mostly juvenile nonsense far below my reading level, barely thought-provoking, mostly time-fillers, and stuff I LOVE nonetheless!!  

That's all.  I'm tired, I think I'll go to bed.  Probably read myself to sleep.