On Friday night David and I went to dinner.
While we waited for a table we wandered over to the bookstore, my favorite place in the world to wander.
I started greedily stacking books into my arms, because I can't help myself.
David said, "Do you know I don't think I've ever read a book all the way through?"
I nearly died right there.
I told him, the best I could, about the kind of sheer joy he was missing in his life. And then he said that if I ever write a book he would read that one and we joked that then he could say it was the best book he'd ever read in his life.
And he surprised us both by saying, "I want to read a book. What book should I read?"
I was flummoxed. That's a lot of pressure after all my high praise about the glory and magic of books. And where do you start?
I offered a few suggestions.
I found an author I thought he might like and offered that.
He hemmed again, and told me it looked too long, but this time I pushed just a little.
We left with two books for each of us. Unheard of in our marriage.
On Saturday night I was working on my Sunday School lesson and David came and lay down by me. He picked up his book.
I felt a stab of jealousy so pure and so thick I nearly cried.
"You're going to read fiction while I work on my lesson?" I asked, aghast and a little hurt.
He grinned at me and turned back to his book.
The longing nearly consumed me.
And then this morning as I got out of bed he reached for his book.
I teased him, "Wow, you've only been reading for one weekend and you've already found the vice...reading when you should be doing something else."
He just smiled and kept reading. I walked out of the room to find breakfast and hair-do's and lunch money for my children.
I don't mind telling you that I was overwhelmed with envy that he was again enjoying one of the greatest of all pleasures without me, and I was nearly undone by a deep and hungry lust for the pile of books on the table by my bed. It was only by exercising my strongest willpower that I was able to walk out of the room.
Just now, David came in and asked me to iron his shirt. He's running late.
I bet you can guess what I said.
I'll admit it was mostly pride with a little drop of wrath and irony...all delivered with a haughty smile.
It was a very wicked weekend.