You love to read.
Somehow, you were able to sneak Dad’s flashlight under your covers so you could finish the story.
Do you remember? Did you get in trouble? (I did)
You took a bus to the library and checked out more books than you could carry. Still, somehow you managed. When you returned the books, you remembered to bring a bigger bag for the next load.
You loved the library’s summer reading program.
Your excruciatingly heavy backpack had 30% school related items and the rest were great books.
You volunteered at a library and miss the card catalogs.
Other kids took sunglasses and lotion to camp while you took books.
You love squirreling away valuable minutes checking the progress of a book you’re reading, one paragraph at a time, during your break. You’re on the clock but maybe one more paragraph...one more minute...heck you’ll finish it during lunch.
You’d rather buy paperbacks than candy or cigarettes.
You wouldn’t mind being stranded on an island, as long as there are boatloads of good books.
There’s always a novel in your purse or jacket. Several in your car and they used to be bungee-cord strapped to the back of your bike.
When you’re at a party, you pick up books instead of socialize.
You feel weird about lending books for various, personal reasons.
When friends make you mad, it’s not that big of a deal because books make you feel better.
Sometimes, you read more than one book at a time.
You don’t understand why people like magazines and periodicals when books are so much better.
Your Kindle or Nook is always charged.
Your Amazon account is out of control.
You admit to making notes in the margins and creating dog-eared corners but only in books you own.
Your apartment will be, or is, walking distance to the library or a bookstore.
There are special stuffed chairs that appear to be designed specifically for reading and nothing else.
No one should interrupt you while you’re reading. There ought to be a law.
You love to read.
Am I right?