thoughts think themselves while you pull up weeds from the flower bed. just back from talking to the librarian, and hearing my neighbor next door, i idly make a connection.
he (the librarian) doesn't know them (the neighbors) because they don't go to the library, altho they live 3 doors down from it.
they (the neighbors) perhaps don't even read.
my brain connects more dots.
they (the neighbors) are seriously, germanically, industrious.
while they garden dawn to dusk to provide themselves with veggies year round (and sometimes some for us) i read on my back porch.
i try to back into the corner behind the bush so they don't see me.
i believe that People Who Don't Read have a certain view of People Who Read.
People Who Read have a certain view of People Who Don't Read.
pulling weeds my brain lights up AHA!
he (the librarian) asked of the book i recommended to him: "it's not science fiction or fantasy is it?"
People Who Read have a certain view of WHAT OTHER PEOPLE READ.
there is a sort of hierarchy of what kind of reading is a waste of time.
readers of history and literature have a certain view of readers of mysteries.
mystery readers have a certain view of sci fi and fantasy readers.
who, i am sure, believe they are not wasting time like romance story readers!
it's fun to realize this. my brain is cheerful about it. it is one more clue in my life-long obsession called "What is it that people should do with their time?"
hardly anyone approves of how anyone else spends their time!
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