I think I’ve lost the ability to read. Yeah, that’s right. I used to love to read. I set a goal of reading 35 books this year. Then I hit August, started A Game of Thrones by George R.R. Martin, my 31st book, and something happened. Since August I’ve read 298 pages.

Some of my reading blogging buddies tell me it’s okay. Just move on to another book. But the answer’s not that simple.

I blame discovering Apple apps, in particular Mahjong and Solitaire. They’ve completely eaten up my time. Oh, I still blog over at nonamedufus. But after I get done with that, read the odd post by my favourite blog colleagues, and engage in a little Facebook comment thread hijacking with my Colorado conspirator Michael Whiteman-Jones, yep, I go to the dark side. I click on the mahjong tile or the ace of spades icon and I’m gone for hours.

And I feel so guilty because as I’m matching tiles or placing red on black there it is on the coffee table, A Game Of Thrones, eyeing me longingly with tears running silently down it’s spine and I can hear it calling to me in my mind, “noname, come back, I forgive you for two-timing me”. What a great book. Well, its demeanour any way. I don’t know about the content.

I really have to set my mind to finishing that book, to cutting back on the computer games. For one thing my fingers are starting to curl into arthritic claws. For another, A Game Of Thrones is the first of a five book series. And those other four volumes across the room aren’t nearly so pleasant or understanding as they sit waiting for me to read them.

I’m coming Thrones, I’m coming.

Just one quick game of Mahjong.

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