I am addressing you in the singular because I don’t doubt for a second that my readership has dwindled down to the single digits, if not less, due to my absenteeism.
Adulthood means being unable to read like a child, and I’ve accepted this now, even though I resisted for a few years longer than my peers. Reading has become a delicious luxury for stolen moments.
Besides, I’ve noted that the amount I read always drops when I undergo any life-changes. And I’ve just gone through a humongous one. I got married, I moved out of home, and I got a new dog. Making googly-eyes at my dog, in fact, takes up most of my free time. One cannot read and kiss a dog’s nose at the same time, believe me.
Notwithstanding, I am hesitant to drop this blog. I bought this domain years ago to encourage myself to keep at it; both writing and this blog, and I will regret it for the rest of my life if I stop altogether.
If a read less, I write less on this blog, since it is about reading, after all. And so I have been consorting with another long bout of delightful writer’s block. Maybe one can just call it lack of motivation. And the longer I don’t write, the more pressure there is.
For what it’s worth, I am convinced that the next piece of amazing stationery I buy will entirely kill my sloth and make me into the next Margaret Atwood. In that spirit, my house is filled with scores of pens and countless empty and half-empty notebooks. Most recently, to end my long and tragic bout of writer’s block, I decided that I must have a dozen yellow legal notepads, which Amazon was selling wholesale. I used to be more economical and buy my legal notepads singly from Staples, but since Staples retail store is no longer a thing in Bangalore, I was forced to rely on Amazon. I had the legal notepads delivered to office and opened them gleefully, and one of my co-workers saw them told me it’s a waste of money. I was deeply offended! No price is too high when I’m endeavouring to become the next Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie! Plus, yellow legal pads are a one-way street to becoming brilliant and organised. Hmph.
I forgot them in my backpack yesterday and pulled them out this morning at home just before I left to office. My husband saw them. I was hoping he wouldn’t say “How much did they cost?” or “Why on earth do you need 12?”. At best, I was hoping for an indulgent smile and shake of the head. But as soon as he saw them, his pretty brown eyes lit up and with all the excitement of a small child asking for gulab jamun, he said “Can I have one?”
I was a bit confused. I said “Sure. Why do you need one?” He said “I love new notebooks.” I could only hug him and say “Me too.”
These small moments that one may or may not remember, these are the moments that make up one’s lifeblood, fill one’s heart and soul with joy, and provide reaffirmation that the massive step of marriage at the young age of 25 was not a mistake.
Reader, I’ve already married him. But I fall in love with him every day. And I can only thank god for my luck and for legal notepads and keep writing about the nothings that make up everything.
Are you in love? With a person, an animal, a vocation, a thing? Tell me all about it in the comments.