That’s all I could keep saying in my head yesterday evening. 

I read a book.

Being a Robert Langdon character fan (with Tom Hanks in my head), I’d been wanting to read Inferno for quite some time. I’d borrowed a hardback copy from my mother-in-law two years ago. 

Two years ago.

I took it with me on a trip with hubby to Sun Valley and never cracked it open. It sat in my bedroom–and still sits–this whole time. I had great intentions of reading it. I even finally downloaded the Kindle app to my iPad so I could take books, including this one, with me when we traveled cross country this spring. I never ‘cracked’ it open.

All that time in a car and I never read a word?

What’s wrong with me?

I think my many years of traveling in a car and being content with my thoughts and being completely absorbed in observing my surroundings made the reading of a book something I didn’t need to do.

I never seem to have time to read. Owning your own business can consume you. I had made it my goal–my one little word–to capture more love, more moments, more life. I think that in some respects I’ve done okay, but not anywhere near what I’d hoped as we come to the last several weeks of this year. 

I miss reading.

I see other books that people have read and want to get lost in the pages of those same books. But it’s difficult for me to turn my mind off from work and let myself submerge into the carefully crafted stories that others have written. 

This book, however, was somewhat different in that much of it takes place in Florence and Venice–two places I’ve been. So not only could I imagine the detail, I knew the detail which he wrote about. I even stood atop St. Mark’s (San Marco) Basilica where the horses were. It’s a good thing I can speed read to a degree because I find myself getting bored with the superfluous details that can sometimes accompany a story. There’s a lot of blah blah blah that I just graze over.  Hey, it helps me read through it faster. ;)

I’ve constantly had a problem creating balance in my life. I find it hard to allow myself free time in the evening or weekends where I could read a book.

I have this innate desire to be productive. 

I don’t want this innate desire to be productive.

Well, to a certain degree, anyway.

Evenings and weekends are hard to let work go. Why would I sit and watch a television program (I watch so few anyway), when I could be doing something.

It’s quite a conundrum.

But when Kass and I flew to NYC, I let work go. I swapped my usual computer and productivity for my iPad and some freedom and started reading my book. I read about half of it during the trip and finished it up this weekend.

It felt great.

I have another book on my Kindle app.

The question is: how long will it be before I can say ‘I read a book’ this time?