It’s been a busy week with Ski Days and parent conferences and I haven’t been able to post anything here in the past week. Saturday’s here and I try to sort out some paperwork and get time to read up on the weekend newspapers while I hope to benefit from the glorious spring weather outside by taking a walk.

Saturdays are peculiar. I got up early this morning and I feel I have gotten lots done, but remembering back to younger days I kept up on my reading on weekends (sounds sorry, but it wasn’t). For some puzzling reason I cannot find time to read books anymore. I almost stopped buying them. It’s puzzling because I really do enjoy reading. I guess it’s a question of priority. I recall a revelation many years ago after living in Italy, where I worked 24/7 for the most part, that I had to admit to a friend that I read too much – and expanding on this insight I realized I escaped the mundane reality (yes, Italy can be mundane) and read instead. In my case overconsumption of literature was a sign of unhappiness.

Does this mean that my life is so damn interesting now that I don’t find time to escape into literary worlds? I’m not sure. It feels like it’s a time issue. But that’s not it either. When I do have time I do other things. Hang out with people for one, watch movies and surf the net and try to keep up with my penchant for photography.

Nonetheless, I still miss reading. At the moment I am trying to read a few books actually, alternating between three or four different reads. I’m not sure it that’s a sign of information overload and the exhausting art of multitasking…

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