Hello there, you silver tongued devil. Your sensual whisperings compel me to fold that extra load of laundry, walk that extra mile, rake both back and front yards. Without you, the silence of taskery folds me into its dull realm, smothering me second by never ending second. Your stories flow through me, transporting me to worlds more interesting than that which float in dishwater.
Others may download you directly onto their iPods, but my outdated CD Walkman works perfectly well to bring you into my heart.
Some use you for motivational and self-help pursuits, but my needs are less serious and more joyful. British chick-lit, historical fiction and anything with the words Jane or Austen fill my innermost realms.
Some may say I’m not actually reading when you and I meet up for our literary trysts, but I beg to differ. We have nothing to hide. Our connection is deep and auditory, soaking deeply into my brain despite having never passed through my vision.
Your stories never seem to dry up. Randomly pulled from the library shelf or long awaited bestsellers, either way you always deliver the goods.
Soothing yet energizing all at once.
So thank you sweet, sweet audio books. Your words lift me beyond the sameness of household drudgery and into the lives of characters that enrich and entrance.
You had me at disc one.
“Use it up, wear it out, make it do or do without.”
Click here to read my other love letters.