You’ve heard of cathartic pastimes like retail therapy and comfort eating, but do you engage in comfort reading? This Bohemian Bookworm sure does.
Whether post-breakup, bewildered by difficult work, or simply bored out of my mind, I will consistently binge on a huge bookalicious Amazon list, printed hot off the press, trot down to my local bookstore, and build a triple decker book concoction to take home and imbibe gleefully.
I distinguish comfort reading from my usual book buying habits because it’s always emotions-driven, and because I never seem to buy just one book. I indiscriminately grab books off shelves, barely glancing at the details, then belly up to the book counter, staggering with my face all but obscured.
Going home and reading curled up under a blanket is pretty much the bookworm equivalent of rocking yourself in the fetal position for an extended period of time. Some people prefer shoe sprees or scarfing down an entire bag of potato chips, but I find the sight of a giant pile of cheerful book covers infinitely more reassuring.
Do you comfort read, and if so, what is the extent of your addiction? Weigh in by leaving a comment below!