Realising it is due to go back to the library in a couple of days, tonight I started The Mystery Man by Bateman (who seems to have lost his first name in the past couple of years).
If I am to finish the book in time to return it by the due date I’ll have to read it while out of the house (on the bus, having my morning coffee, on my lunch break etc). But if I read it while I’m out of the house I might be in trouble.
The book is funny. Not “I’ve smiled a couple of times and chuckled once” funny or “my, isn’t that a wry observation I see before me” funny but “I’m only on page 27 and am already giggling like a granny who’s been at the liquor cabinet all day” funny.
It’s permissible to laugh like a drunken granny in the privacy of one’s own home but on the bus or at the coffee shop it’s a different story. People purse their lips, roll their eyes and practice their disapproving looks. Which I won’t mind because I’ll be laughing at the funny book.
But when I’ve finished the book and revert back to non-giggling commuting and coffee drinking regular passengers and fellow latte addicts will remember that I was the giggling crazy person. And they’ll still purse their lips, roll their eyes and practice their disapproving looks (which I assume they’ll get better and better at). And I’ll probably mind it a lot more when I’m not laughing at the funny book.
Who knew reading could be such a dangerous hobby?