It used to drive my mother nuts when we were young and she'd ask for help with a chore and our answer was "when I get to the end of the chapter," and a 1/2 hour later we'd still be in the same book, long having passed the end of the chapter we promised.
It wasn't that she didn't want us to read, she just felt that we could put the book down, do what had been asked and then go back to the book.
She's a very practical person, my mother.
And it's true, we could have been quicker to help, or finish our homework or do our chores and saved ourselves the time spent arguing over whether we had read one chapter or two.
We weren't that smart.
When we were in the book, there was nothing else.
I like to think I have matured somewhat, though I still find myself checking - 8 more pages and then I'll switch the laundry - and bargaining - if he doesn't die, then I'll go to sleep - while in the midst of a really good book.
It's amazing what the written word can do, sending me off to another city, country, world; real or imaginary. A really well written novel is so immersive I can forget what I should be doing or what time it is.
I get the impression for the next few years I will be reading books that are a tad shorter than what I have been used to, but that's okay too because I will have a reason to be in the children's section of the library, leafing through Dr. Seuss, or Richard Scary, without the supervisors thinking I'm some crazy old lady.
I am thankful that my parents taught me to read while I was young and to love books - even if it did frustrate my mom when I didn't get around to making my bed that day.
This is me, still reading.