I love books, and tend to think that the typical human lifespan would never allow me enough time to read all of the books I'd like to.
That said, I have slipped out of the habit, thanks to the internet, and do most of my reading on there. But it isn't the same at all. I challenged myself to read a book of Virginia Woolf's short stories recently and wow did it feel different! It affected my mind, attention and thought processes in a completely different way to online reading. All positive! I ought to have known better, as a life long lover of books, but it seems the internet has taken me over a good bit.
I so want to get back into the habit, yet I still have a pile waiting, and can't quite get my head around why I don't delve in. WTF?? This used to be my most cherished pastime. I feel a sort of resentment that something scuppered it. Anyone relate?