Damn you slices. My reading mojo has up and left the building. You’ve stolen it away.
I usually leave my heart of hearts on my bookcase staircase during the month of March. I’ve sliced and diced all about that. I’ve long settled into the fact that this month is a hiatus from my wild reading habits.
Except for I haven’t. I’ve been feeling that feeling of wobbling my way through the days and nights without any pages to hold me steady.
Saturday I decided to take charge of that wobble and steady myself.
Except for it didn’t go so well.
Two pages, stop.
Four pages, stop.
Six pages, fall asleep?!?!
My absence from the worlds found within the pages turned me into one of those readers I work tirelessly to turn into voracious readers such as my old self.
I then turned my tactics on myself. I chose a new book. I went to a new spot. I went in search of my reading mojo, for I desperately needed it back.
It took a few hours and a catch your breath moment (was I really holding my breath?) to stumble across it.
I knew it was there when I felt myself holding the page and starting to turn, in a race to get to the end of the page and keep going.
I knew it was there when that story followed me to the park with the two gremlins in tow.
I especially knew it was there when I found myself straining closer to the window in search of light because the light switch was too far away and would require me to stop reading.
My trusty mojo is back and slices be damned, I will not let it slip again.