This past fall, I found myself in a strange reading pattern. I would wake up on Sunday mornings, excited for a quiet day ahead after a busy week. We would get out, and then I would have a few hours to sit and read on the couch in the afternoon. As I went to bed that night, I'd say to myself, "Good, I'm back in the reading groove."
Then Monday would roll around and I'd barely touch my book all week save for a few pages in bed before falling asleep. After a few weeks of this, I chalked it up to being in a busy work season. "I'll get back into my reading routine after the wedding season ends," I assured myself.
My final wedding came and went, and I freshened up my TBR stack, ready to start reading more again. But, again, I found myself only reaching for my book when I had quiet chunks of time on the weekend and then going for days without reading.
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When the calendar turned to the new year, I decided to recommit to my reading routine. It's strange to be a reader but not feel like reading is part of your daily routine. This wasn't a reading slump. It was just that I had gotten out of the habit of reading regularly.
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