Cursed Books

Why do they have to be so good? so addicting? so mind-clogging? so tiring? so....so....well, entertaining?

Every day this week, after 8 hours of working at Cub Scout Camp, I've come home, plopped on the couch, and read Gone With The Wind. It's such a good book! I'm enjoying the Team Ashley vs. Team Rhett debates going on in my head, although at this point, I'm leaning towards Team Rhett. But please, no spoilers! I'm only halfway through!

Although books are awesome and wonderful and frolicky and majestic and punctual and every other adjective that can ever be used positively, they are cursed. For when you open one, you can't help but relinquish a part of yourself into its tenacious grip. And everything you do from the moment it opens to the moment you reach the last page is a waste of time, because you can't really put your whole mind to the task at hand. There's always one little thought that says, "What happens next?"

And now, halfway through GWTW, I am worthless. I can't do anything except read, while at home at least. I haven't picked up my novel once since I started reading it, and I haven't worked on my biology project, either. I haven't put away my laundry, and I've neglected to even wash my hair for the past 3 days. All I've done is read.

Ashley or Rhett? Ashley or Rhett?