When I was little, I used to leave one bite of food on my plate all the time. I don’t know why and I don’t know exactly when I outgrew this, but I think I just wanted to know there was something else left there if I wanted it—at least one little bite left to savor.
These days I leave no bite uneaten (watch your fingers, boys and girls,) but I do sometimes find myself dragging out the last couple bites or sips of something particularly delicious. It gets eaten, but it gets savored a little bit more than the first couple bites that I took.
That behavior has since extended to devouring books and magazines, as when I enjoy them, I hate when they’re done.
When I start reading something, I rarely pay attention to my pace or the pages I’ve read. I’m simply lost in the world of words (or “ooh! pretty pictures”) as I make my way through the story or issue.
But when I get towards the end, I start slowing down. I meander and ease my way through the pages, flipping back through and around again, trying to delay the inevitable—the last page, the last word.
So right now on my “just throw it there table,” I have two magazines I’ve read sections of and a book with about 10 pages left. I could easily finish any one of them in no time at all, but yet I keep this random rotation going so that I still have a bit of each of them left.
I have issues, I know.
But I also know that this physical representation of what I have to read is the reason that I can’t get on board with e-readers or other technological reading gadgets.
I like seeing the pages I still have to read or the magazine sitting on my counter. Yes, I actually have to turn the pages myself and they might take up a little space, but I can write in the margins or dog ear a page and go right back to where I was at.
I’m sure e-readers are quite handy in a “My iPhone can beat up your iPhone way” and they claim that they make reading easier, but what’s so difficult about picking up a book or magazine? Do we really have to make everything easier?
If we’re really looking to improve on the ease of doing something, how about they invent a gadget that can fold and put away laundry.
It’s a pain in the ass, and I’m pretty sure that if I never had to do it again, I would have enough time left over to read every single book in Barnes & Noble and write a few myself.
Never once have I found myself lingering over the last pair of socks, picking one up to examine it before putting it back down in the basket, disappointed in the fact that once it is matched up with it’s partner, that particular task will be over.
Instead, I find myself resenting every sock or shirt that necessitates a hanger in order to avoid ironing, as we know how I feel about that.
After this stressful domestic endeavor—one that can only be matched by changing the sheets on the bed or picking up rice that I dropped in the carpet—the last thing I want to do is grab some technical gadget, sit down on the couch to read and discover my battery’s low.
No, I still savor some of the simple things, like a cup of tea on the couch with a half-read magazine on my lap.
Plus then when I spill all the tea on my lap, I don’t have to risk electrocution.
It’s really a win all around .
