I'm going to talk to you today about a very serious affliction. This affliction strikes suddenly and there's no cure for it. It will cause you to not care about the current state of your home, make excuses to justify your actions (or lack thereof), delay the feeding of your household, and lose sleep. Most people also boast a rapid rate of word digestion and forget to shower.
I've recently been self-diagnosed with this affliction. One More Chapter Syndrome is real. And when it hits, it hits HARD.
It started on Thursday. I picked up my book--Anna and the French Kiss by Stephanie Perkins--while at an appointment and started reading. I was fine at first. I read a little here and a little there, but I didn't stay up terribly late reading like I usually would. By Saturday morning, I figured I'd just read while eating breakfast. But then the chapter ended and I shrugged before continuing. And then that chapter ended and I did the same thing.
Upon waking Sunday morning, I promptly reserved the companion novel, Lola and the Boy Next Door, figuring I'd find something short to read in the meantime. And I did. I read a bit more of Fables Vol. 4 and I actually read Kimberly G. Giarratano's new short story, One Night Is All You Need, which she mentioned here. I'd recommend it! But I was itching to read Lola. I cracked and ended up buying the Kindle version and, of course, started reading it immediately.
Monday and Tuesday were busy days for me, so I managed to get a few of the necessary things done. Now, at this point, I thought I was recovering. But then yesterday I figured I'd start the day easy and read through breakfast. I did. And then I made myself get up to clean for a bit. But, hey, I needed a snack. Might as well enjoy a few pages, right? A few chapters later, I got back to work. And then it was time for lunch. I cleared another few chapters and made myself work again, trying to ignore the book that was taunting me from my desk. But coffee break! Needless to say, I finished that book last night. Or I guess it was technically this morning.
Today we made a trip to the library so I could collect the next companion novel, Isla and the Happily Ever After. I swear I'm not petting it at this very moment. Really, I'm not. OK. I am. But that's because I have sewing to do and children to teach and a kitchen to clean and... Well, just one chapter should be fine, right?
See what I mean? It's a very serious affliction.
Before I ditch all my duties and lose myself in Paris--again--have you suffered from One More Chapter Syndrome? With what book(s)?