Saturday, July 24, 2010

I must confess...

Bill Murray, driving Larry Miller's 1965 Shelb...Image by Me-Here via Flickr
What am I going to tell, the suspense may kill you?  I won't make you wait, long.  I just discovered that I must be a BOOK-aholic.  Here's how I came to this conclusion.  My husband just purchased, "Driven" An Autobiography by the late Larry H. Miller.  It was his father's day present, though a month late.  I promised I would't read it until he was finished.  But when he is asleep at night I have been reading it.  Yesterday he was outside and I couldn't help myself.  I needed something to read and it was there on the dining room table.  It was just saying read me, he's not here.  So I picked up the book and got nice and comfortable on my bed.  But I didn't get very far because my 21 month old daughter needed me. I left the book open,  face down on the bed.  He came in before I could put it back.  "Quit reading my book", he yelled.  Boy, is he touchy.  "You promised"!
he continued.  He's right, I did promise.   So here I am writing about wanting to read my husbands book, instead of reading it.  He's outside, doing yard work.  The book is sitting on his desk.  The baby is asleep, and my other three children are at their dad's house this weekend.  It looks like he has purposefully placed his phone and MP3 player on top of it, he knows he can't trust a bookaholic .  He know's because he is an alcoholic and he can recognize any type of addiction, even if it is as innocent as the love of reading.

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