Reading will be the end of me

Yesterday, I got myself sent to the doctor for pink eye (again). I could have laid low and flown under the radar, but I'm getting a bit worried about the persisten redness, and I didn't have time after school any day this week, so I opted to leave at 9:30. My doctor referred me to an opthalmalogist (that is how you spell it; I checked) and told me that I might be contagious and not to go back to school that day (nevermind that I've been teaching with red-ish eyes since Jan. 8th... today could be the day I infect someone). I couldn't really enjoy my impromptu holiday as I felt very guilty for dumping my kiddos off on two of my colleagues, and I felt bad that I couldn't take care of the increasing mounds of paperwork from home. So I putzed around and bothered Max.

Near the end of the day, I picked up a novel from the library and started reading it. It proved to be a mistake. There's a reason why I don't read for fun during the school year, and I knowingly shoved it to the back of my mind and read anyway. I got so into the novel (I'm on page 233) that I literally fought with Max about going to bed. Suddenly I was in seventh grade again and arguing with my parents saying things like: "One more chapter!" "Just one more page", or "Give me ten minutes, I'll go to bed after that I PROMISE". Max put his foot down "for my own good". I read for fifteen more minutes, then struggled with him for control of the book. He finally got me to close it, but I managed to grab it and read while I was brushing my teeth. Well, at least I didn't get a flashlight and read under the covers like when I was younger. I am hopeless.

And the worst part is that I have a much anticipated book on hold, waiting for me at the library with my name on it. The struggle isn't over yet... why do I do this to myself?