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I was a good reader as a kid, and still a reader. I’ll go from room to room with my book hovering inches from my face. I could manage to walk down the stairs, eating, toothbrushing, dressing up, without missing a word in my book. I think it annoyed my mother, and my big sister the most because she does so much of the house chores.
She would read some, but mainly before bed. During the day, when she get too busy baking, cleaning, and buying groceries, and I’ll have a book glued to my face and she’ll give me a fiercely look that I alone understood so well.
Housework was not my thing. I was oblivious but at the same time knew how things were done, but I was just not interested in them. My aunt would come visiting and tidy things up in the house, while I read. My Mom and my sister would call me lazy. But they’re grateful that I am smart and intelligent.
It's true. I was lazy.
*A fictional short story
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