How the Kindle ruined my life.


I read like I breathe. It’s part of me and it’s my first diversion in the face of free time (and, not infrequently when I should actually be doing something else). Living in close proximity to the US border, my main method of book accumulation was generally to have a day trip to western New York, spend many hours in Borders or Barnes and Noble and return home loaded up with a couple of dozen books to keep me going until my next trip. Generally, I would finish the books some time before my next cross-border shopping trip. This would leave me with several weeks of time to do other things, like crafting or housework.

But, then, I bought a Kindle, and it’s like chain-smoking, but with books. The very instant I finish a book, there is another one to start. If a book is mentioned on TV or in a podcast, I can buy it immediately. There are no more unfulfilled desires. I can pre-order books and never worry that I will miss their release. Instead they magically appear on my Kindle the morning of their release. The tiny dark cloud in this blue sky of happiness is that I get nothing else done now. There is always another book to read, and this takes precedence over just about everything.  If I could give up work and stay home and read, I would do it. So much better than reality.


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