There need to be, like, twenty more hours in my weekend.

The only reason I can't wait for school to be over for the semester is because -- in a prime example of what a timesuck it is -- I haven't gotten to sit down and answer emails and post in days.

But I can say this:

Lately I've been picturing my nine-year-old self a lot. I'm blond, I'm short and skinny, I play outside a lot. But what I love more than anything is reading. I read in the car (to my family's utter astonishment), I read as I walk around school, I read the cereal box as I eat breakfast in the morning. The librarian knows me better than any of my other teachers. My parents' idea of punishing me -- sending me to my room and not allowing me to watch TV -- is a joke, since I'll just flip on the radio and read something instead.

I keep picturing that kid with my ereader.

Thanks to ebooks I've bought and saved over time, classic ebooks I downloaded free, fanfic I downloaded in epub format, and various other digital books, I've got hundreds of books on my ereader. Hundreds. All on one little screen in a red leather case.

I'm pretty sure my nine-year-old self, if handed my ereader with its current contents, wouldn't be able to read it. It's hard to read something you're clutching to your chest in a combination of awe and glee.