...and I'm a Bookaholic.
(Your cue: "Hi, Cara.")
I accidently slipped into my "curl up with a good book" winter mode this weekend, and completely missed out on some of my favorite Summer-In-Chicago events (i.e. Blues Festival, Printers Row Book Fair, Old Town Art Fair). I don't really have a good excuse. I was just lazy.
I exerted myself enough motzei shabbat to send out a couple of text messages to see what people were up to. One friend wrote back, suggesting we go to the Blues Festival. I wrote back that I would be interested...and then curled up with a good book, and neglected to make any phone calls or pursue fun Saturday night activities. (I was saved from total lame-ness by a midnight phone call from a friend in need of tomfoolery...so I got off the sofa, quickly made myself presentable, and hit the bars.)
Sunday started off well enough- I was up bright and early for a softball game, and then we went out for lunch afterwards. (Mmmm....shwarma at 11:00am) My Sunday afternoon plans were canceled, so I sent a text message to a friend, went home...and curled up with a good book.
Five hours later, my friend called, having only just received my text. Had I exerted myself enough to actually call, I might have joined him at the Old Town Art Fair (where, incidently, he ran into an old summer camp friend that I had been trying to track down for ages). Or, I could have just gone to the Art Fair by myself. Or gone to the Book Fair by myself. Or done anything to take advantage of a beautiful summer day in a fabulous city.
Now, I could probably blame technology, for making it so easy to send a text message, thus saving me the effort of having a phone conversation. Or I could blame books, for being good and luring me onto the sofa for hours. I could also blame my friends, for not calling me and staging a Bookaholics intervention.
But, the sad truth is that I'm lazy, and far too comfortable staying home with a good book. This contradicts everything I have promised myself about taking advantage of summer, and having adventures. Maybe this is my wake-up call. No more wasted weekends. Books are for rainy days and Saturdays (and somehow, I feel like I'm quoting song lyrics, but I cannot for the life of me remember what song it is), or weeknights when I get home too late (and have to be awake too early) to responsibly go out and adventurize.
So maybe it's a good thing I missed the Book Fair. It would have been like buying drugs to feed my habit.