Where do I start? Well, let's start with the fact that my mother used to call us "Desperate Readers." That meant that if you didn't hear anything from one of us for a while - me, my mother, my sister, or my dad - you could be certain of finding us frozen, head in a book.
To add to the desperation, we didn't even have to be sitting at the time. Standing like a stork, one foot drawn up, hovering over the kitchen counter, brushing teeth, eating... all this was done with a book in hand.
Try to talk to us when we got in that state, and you would have to break through. Friends found it extremely irritating when I didn't answer back. But I was lost in my own little world, you see.
And it didn't even have to be a book, or a novel. My sister and I used to love to read the encyclopedia. Or old magazines, or letters, backs of cereal boxes of course...
We were poor in those days, and we used to line our drawers with newsprint since we weren't able to afford drawer liners. When one of us had to clean out a drawer, couldn't we be found an hour later, reading the old drawer liner? Probably with a pair of socks in the other hand, too.
So, there are good readers, and challenged readers, and there are Desperate Readers. How many of you join me in this group?