Reading = No Life?

I was bemoaning my lack of having read a lot last quarter, and reminiscing about 5th grade, when we had a 'how much did you read this week contest'. My Best Friend at the time mentioned recently that she was happy that we were in separate classes because she stood a chance at winning; I remember being disqualified after a few weeks because there was no way someone else could win (for example, one weekend started with a snow day, so I read The Count of Monte Cristo, all 1,365 pages of it).

MSP's here this weekend, and he contended that I clearly had no life because of all the reading. I countered that I was taking ballet twice a week, and piano, and Hebrew, and playing with friends. I just read a lot. Almost as if to prove it, yesterday I blogged a lot, watched qualifying for the US Grand Prix, went shopping, went out for dinner/the local carnival/dessert, read the paper AND read a book. This morning he agreed, I just read a lot. And fast. We'll see how much I read today, because this afternoon is the Grand Prix, then Superman IMAX 3D, then fireworks.

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