Monday, 29 June 2015

Deep seated prejudice or unbelievably lazy? You decide.

I am a reader. I read every day. I go to the public library several times a week and always have at least two books on the go at all times. There are stacks and stacks of books in our house.

But what do I seem unable to bring myself to use?

A bookmark. 

Seriously. Now before you get all up on your high horse I would NEVER ever dog ear the page of a book.

That's like grounds for divorce when you are married to a librarian.

But I seem incapable of using a proper bookmark.

It is not that I don't have them. I do. I have loads. In fact, I know where all of them are. In a little pot on the bottom shelf of a wine box on the stairs. What I don't have is the energy to get up and get one when I am reading in the living room and need to get up for some reason.

Or maybe I just really hate bookmarks.

So what do I use? Any old thing I lay my hand on.  Here is a list of things I have used to mark my place in a book because I cannot be arsed to go and get a proper bookmark:

1. receipts
2. a 2p coin
3. a bit of loose thread I pulled from the bottom of a shirt I was wearing
4. the peel off tabs from a plaster (band-aid)
5. the outer wrapper from the same plaster carelessly left on the table when I had bandaged up my finger the night before
6. some fluff I found in my pocket
7.  a small square of green felt that was left on the floor after a craft project
8. the wrapper from a peppermint cream
9. a strip torn off of a newspaper I had finished reading
10. an anniversary card from a friend

So do I have some dark secret lurking in my past whereby I cannot bear to be in the presence of bookmarks because they bring back the pain of my childhood?  Was I once greatly wronged by a bookmark? Did it give me a paper cut? Or am I just undeniably lazy when it comes to reading?

You decide.

I'll just go ahead and finish my book.

1 comment:

  1. I believe I recall some adult slapping your hand when you used a bookmark that belonged to them...........wasn't me nor your father. I leave this fictional reason to your imagination. We can have fun naming who it might be!