Plights of a Bookworm 4: “I’m not bored, I’m reading”

Like my fictional hero, Rory Gilmore, I almost always have at least one book on my person. So when bits of time come up, I can read. I read, to quote the great Dr. Seuss, while waiting for a train to go, or a bus to come, or a plane to go, for the mail to come or the rain to go. But my very best reading time is on my lunch break at work. I can take 30 minutes, forget all about work problems, and just chill out with my salad and my book. It is the very best part of my day.

Until.

Some well-meaning soul comes along to “rescue” me from my apparent boredom. The problem is that they are sorely mistaken. There is literally not one other thing I would rather be doing right now. I especially don’t want to be listening to how shitty your day is and then seeing pictures of you and your wife on vacation. I have my own shitty day and my own unflattering bathing suit pictures to deal with, and I’m trying to forget about them by READING MY BOOK.

If I was typing away on a laptop, you wouldn’t bother me. If I was talking on the phone, you wouldn’t bother me. Reading is not something I do because I don’t have anyone to eat lunch with. I deliberately take a late lunch and sit by myself so I might have time to read another Malcolm Gladwell essay, or finish The Book Thief so I can review it later.

I would say about 70% of the population understands that my book is a “Do not Disturb” sign, and to them I say, thank you. Your thoughtfulness in sitting at another table makes it possible for me to re-charge and be my charming and lovely self in the second half of my day. The rest of you need to listen up:

I’m not bored. I’m reading.

 

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