Mousy appearances may deceive, but reading addicts feel pain like everyone else.
Next-morning headaches, for one.
Got a new book from the library yesterday, and a juicy BBC period drama from Netflix. Did I let them lie, savoring the anticipation? Dip into a few chapters, then fold some laundry, all the while untangling plot and characters in my head? No. I watched the film, straight through, and then dove into the novel.
By 12:22 am, my binge was over. Silence. Nothing left to look forward to. Do people think we enjoy that feeling? It's gut-wrenching. In the unplumbed depths of our hearts, we wish we'd left a few chapters for tomorrow. But we cannot.
At least I'm admitting I have a problem. :)