I have this week off from school, so of course I thought why not spend at least one day reading. Just me and the sofa and a small stack of paperbacks.
I’ll tell you why not….. since I entered my 50’s, reading makes me fall asleep.
Apparently this is what it’s like to be in your 50’s. You lie down, just like you always used to do, with a really good book in your hands, one that you know you won’t be able to put down. You read a few pages and
you doze off.
Just about every time.
I used to read 50 to 200 pages a night almost every night of the week. I could knock off 75 pages in just over an hour, get up and cook dinner, grade a small stack of papers then throw on my dancing shoes and hit the clubs til they chased me away at two in the morning when by law the booze stopped flowing.
This week I tried to read the same Ursula le Guin short story three times and still haven’t made it to the end.
If I lie on the sofa while reading now-a-days I drift in and out of the story until it becomes a kind of late night slow jazz improve evoking a mood instead of a melody. It’s a dreamy experience suggesting events and images that sometimes take a brief form for a while before drifting off into a gentle mix of fading colors and a restful slumber.
It’s nice, but I don’t get much reading done.
So now when I really want to get some reading done, I have to sit up straight in an actual chair. I can still sit in my comfortable leather arm chair with the matching ottoman for now at least. And I can still knock off 75 pages in a hour if I’m reading in the morning and I have a steady supply of coffee.
But once I hit my 60’s, all bets are off.