I am middle aged. Ouch! It hurts to type that sentence. But it is true. I will be 47 on my next birthday and if truth be told I am perhaps on the far side even of middle age. But since I am assuming a long, long life, let’s just go with middle aged. What does this have to do with reading you ask? I will tell you.
I have read barely any fiction since last Friday. I have not thought about posting since then either. Why not? Because for the first time in my life, my husband and I are buying a car. We are not buying a 10 year old used car. We are not inheriting a used car.* We are sucking it up and getting a loan and test driving and researching and test driving and talking to sales people and researching and mulling it over and test driving and researching and talking to friends and family and researching.
I have not read fiction. I have read Consumer Reports’ car edition, 700 times. When did car reviews start to read like wine reviews? The steering on the Scion is apparently vague. So when you turn the steering wheel left does it only merge left? I have read car brochures. Apparently, I can fit a totem pole into a Honda Fit.
Instead of talking about books, I have talked about MPG and trunk capacity and FLEX fuel and CVTs. I have talked about loans and interest rates and car insurance and monthly payments and warranties and extended warranties.
I am already tired and today holds two more dealers and then we narrow the field and start over. So reading and writing has fallen by the wayside. Honestly, I am excited about a new car, but more than that I am excited about being able to sit in it and read.
What stops you from reading and/or posting?
*Thank you to everyone over the years who has graciously sold or given us their old cars. We would have never made it this far without them and many of them were favorites including the 1996 Elantra Wagon which I use everyday and love.