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….

The way my friends and loved ones reacted to this habit, you’d have thought I was the only one crazy enough to read in the car. But you would have been wrong. (Link via Bookslut.)