Morning Confession About the Danger of Reading at Midnight

November 4, 2009

 

I read a lot, especially late at night when my mind races with ideas and opportunities. My college Chemistry professor recently sent a Christmas card to me so I called her. We had not spoken in over a year.

She told me about a book she thought I would enjoy reading. After she shared the author’s name, she told me the title of the book. I knew I’d never seen the book she recommended and I admit I wouldn’t have been interested in reading it based upon the title but she had captured my curiosity.

On my way home from work, I stopped by my favorite bookstore and ordered a copy of the book she had recommended.

It arrived in the mail on Friday last week and after dinner, I tore into the package. After reading only a few pages, I knew it was a good find.

Reading a chapter or two each night encouraged me, especially when sleep was elusive for me.

Only one night later and just a few minutes past midnight, my husband was either dreaming, talking in his sleep or he accidentally woke up.

“What are you doing?” he asked. I paused and swallowed hard. “How can I answer that question now in the stillness of the night while reading Living Successfully with Screwed Up People?” I silently thought and waited.

Once again he asked, “What are you doing?” This time he demanded a direct answer. “I’m reading a book,” I responded. Apparently dissatisfied with my response he asked another question. “What book?” Shocked at the coherency of his question in the middle of the night, I gulped.

“Oh, it’s just a book my Chemistry professor recommended for me to read.” Interested to complete the chapter, I returned to my book.

“What’s the name of the book?” he asked. Once again I swallowed with a gulp. “How could I tell him the name of the book I was reading?” I silently thought to myself. “How will he respond?” I confess. I would have gladly ignored his question so I paused once again.

Sitting in silence for an eternity of at least a minute or two, he asked again, “What’s the name of the book?” With great reluctance I mumbled, Living Successfully with … Screwed-Up People. Waiting for his response, I held my breath.

Silence returned as he dozed back to sleep. I wondered why he was so interested in knowing the name of a book I was reading, especially late at night. It’s routine for me to read several books simultaneously without being interrogated. But, never before had he been that interested in knowing the specific name of my reading material, especially when he was asleep.

I’m thankful I listened. He never mentioned the conversation and I didn’t bring up the topic, but I did finish reading the book.

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