In bed, at the kitchen table, on the couch, in the bathtub, on the toilet, sitting on the floor, laying on the floor with my legs up the wall, in a closet, in the yard on lawn chairs, picnic tables, tree limbs, in the grass, on dirt, on an ant hill
- the ant hill was actually an accident. I did mean to sit by the nice little mossy area and was quite comfortably reading along when a leggy little black mark wandered from the top left of the even page, worked its way down to the right, across the binding and back up to the top and over the edge. A page later, another leggy black mark tripped itself over the words. And then another. And another. Pulling my eyes away I noticed that I had hundreds of ants crawling all over me. I made quite sure that none were trapped in the book before slamming it shut, jumping up and having a major spaz -
at the library, at school, at a cafe, in a park, at the beach, in a forest, on a mountain top, on the city bus, on a Greyhound, on an airplane, on a ferry
- when I lived on Vancouver Island and regularly took ferries to visit friends I always looked forward to the ride. Ferries, as wonderful and necessary as they are when you live on an island, do constitute a bit of investment time-wise. Two, three, four hour trips were normal. After a quick look about in order to feel like I've done my duty to appreciate nature (trees on the coast, water underneath, boats passing by: check) I would crack open a book and read for hours without interruption or guilt that I should be doing something else. Because what else could I really be doing while on a ferry? (Don't answer that.) I enjoyed this time so much that, after awhile, I began to wonder if I was traveling to visit or using the excuse of a visit to travel... and read -
in a camper, in the backseat of a car, the passenger side, the driver's side (while waiting with the car off), while hitch-hiking, in dentist's and doctor's offices, at the optometrists while waiting for an appointment and waiting to get my glasses back (with the book very close to my nose), while in labour, while operating an ATV
- it's true. I have read books, many books, while driving a quad round and round an abandoned horse race track in a small town I lived in while in grade school. There were few hazards, the quad was made for children and did not go too fast, the dirt track was predictably oval and devoid of any animal life other than the occasional gopher. I was about 12 years old and I'm pretty sure I did it because it drove my mother nuts. She'd say, 'Don't read while your riding that thing! You're going to kill yourself!' If she'd of known that it was only when I was paying full attention while driving, trying to do silly tricks and take jumps with the quad, that I was in any real danger. Once again, reading kept me out of trouble -
at work, while on a treadmill, stationary bike, elliptical machine, stair master (but never managed the rowing machine), in the rain, while drunk, stoned, depressed, happy, and during commerical breaks on television.