Stream of Consciousness Whilst I Take a Break from Reading

The air smells of fried rice
dappled with bits of browned onion,
pungent garlic,
candy carrots,
bitter green pepper,
sweet, spongy zucchini.
The boys are playing Heroscape with Bo.
Sweetheart is playing with clay.
Bard is scavenging for food, having IM'd her way through the fried rice dinner,
unaware that her favorite foods were being consumed without her.
I thought she was asleep.

We removed the television, poking out the huge, unseeing eye from the middle of our Gathering Room.
Too distracting, I say. When I'm lazy or depressed, I go to it, beg it to pacify me with things that, even for video, seem noble--British films, documentaries, cooking shows.
But the books that I love, the ones that I find on dusty shelves in thrift stores or in caving boxes at yard sales or filed neatly by author at the used book stores, are neglected, and as long as that beast lies in wait, my books will go unread.
Since I've pulled the plug, more books have been read, more games played, more conversations had.

Yes, I sometimes miss it. Tonight, for example, when the sadness from this life's weight sends shooting pains through my neck, down my shoulders, I wanted to retreat into thoughtlessness, make an unnecessary trip to the video store and shovel through the heaps of dung in search of one bright and shining treasure. Sometimes it happens. Most times it doesn't. Then, afterwards, I feel used, like my life has been wasted on some superficial thing.

Tonight, I held my ground.
No movies.
No pizza.
Instead, I will read. The librarian graciously waived my outrageously insane fine, and now I'm welcomed there once again, so reading material abounds, not only on my shelves, but in my library bag.
This week, it's Headlong by Michael Frayn, since we're studying Bruegel (read: BROY-gull) this term, and I think I've found a new author to enjoy, as well as a new artist to appreciate.

The fried rice smell is dissipating now, being replaced by the scent of boiling pasta--Annie's Macaroni and Cheese--as Bard attempts to fill the void that was created by her exclusion from the earlier meal. She'll be sustained, but not satisfied.

My break from reading has lasted long enough, and I must find something sweet to eat.