Back when I lived in Florida and needed a car to get to work, I developed a habit of reading at traffic lights.
Everybody said it was dangerous, that it distracted me from the road, that I was a hazard to myself and everybody around me. Blah blah blah.
So I’d make all sorts of promises to myself: this time I’ll only read a few sentences. Stuff like that.
But I always got sucked in. And then, two or three pages later, when the light changed, I was snapped out of my reverie by an angry chorus of horns.
I also used to read in parking lots, in drive-thrus, on the side of the road at rest stops….