You know that feeling that you get toward the end of a really intense, great story? You don’t really want it to end because then what will you read, but also you can’t wait to see what happens? I savor my reading time, especially now that I don’t have nearly as much of it as before my daughter arrived. I love that feeling of escaping into the pages of another world. There’s nothing better than laying in bed, comfy and safe, while reading. Right after waking up in the morning or right before bed at night is my favorite time for this because I don’t have to worry about messing up my hair or makeup.
I was savoring the ending of a literary mystery last Sunday morning and I started getting that very feeling. I’d read it the night before until I just couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer. Then, I happened to have woken up before my daughter did so I knew I could stay in bed. I reached for my book and read for about a half hour. I was about two pages before the ending when I heard her calling me on the monitor. I sent my husband up instead so that I could finish. They came in … WHAT?! Did I not just tell him I was at the end of a good book?!… at the very last paragraph. URGH!!! So much less fulfilling that it could be!
This frustrates me because it happens to me often. Sometimes it’s the doorbell or the phone. Sometimes it’s my hubby telling me it’s late and I need to go to sleep. It’s so silly really, but I do try to guard against it. If I know I’m getting to the end of a book, from now on, I’m going to hide.