Please let this be over, now!

I am a voracious reader. Reading was one of the activities I most anxiously anticipated when I headed into my retirement.

I peruse

best seller list to choose which books to reserve at the library.

Earlier this week, I stepped outside of my usual fiction genre to try a book about a post-apocalyptic vampire infested world. If an author is good and can draw me in, I am consumed by the story.

This morning, Paul said to me, "Why do you keep reading that book? You aren't enjoying it." Yikes!

 Once I got past the fact he reads my mind, I agreed. What was I thinking?

I won't even watch a movie if I know it is the least bit scary or sad.  I had read several hundred depressing and dismal pages. Enough. Back to my own little bubble.

New book today.

Why do people read that stuff?