I love reading. When I was in third grade I remember vying for first place in our class’s reading program. Of course I was reading for number of books, not content. I remember my grandma taking me and my brother to the library during our vacation so we could find something to do. I remember curling up in the back of the minivan during family vacations and plowing through a pile of books–and then getting car sick.

Last night I went to a used book store and thought I was in heaven. I was wandering back and forth between the paperbacks and the hard covers, looking for every author I could think of. By the time I left I had whittled my pile down as much as possible. I walked out with $30 worth of books, birthday money well spent.

Now I’m trying to get through my summer reading list. Which is difficult, considering I’m continually adding to it. But it gives me a great feeling of satisfaction to finish a book and put it back on my shelf. Too bad I’ll always be chasing the end of my reading list. But in a way that’s the fun part.