I’m being chased by a goose.
Not just any goose, either. I’m being chased by a Canadian Goose, which is the rabid hyena of the goose kingdom (I guess the Canadian Government is pouring so many tax dollars into teaching their human citizens how to be mild mannered and kind that they have completely overlooked their indigenous goose population).
But I don’t blame the goose. I blame Fyodor Dostoevsky. Allow me to explain.
Ever since I attempted to read The Brother’s Karamazov in short bursts while on the treadmill at the gym, I have been unable to finish a book. I don’t know if it was the combination of running 6.5 miles per hour while trying to decipher Dostoevsky’s epic prose, I don’t know if it was the blow to the head I suffered when I lost my balance and fell off said treadmill. The jury is still out.
What I do know is that since my butt got Karamazov’ed off that treadmill, I just can’t focus. I’ve tried Roth, Coetzee, Bellow, DeLillo, Rushdie, C.S. Lewis, R.L. Stein, the back of the shampoo bottle, the front of the conditioner bottle, the three year limited warranty on the coffee maker that we got as a wedding present and is now broken – if I’m reading it while my body is inert, I quickly lose focus.
So, naturally, I decided to try taking walks around the pond near my house with my nose buried in a paperback.
It has changed my life.
I’m tearing through books now. I used to get antsy after fifteen pages. Now I’m reading fifty to a hundred without blinking an eye. Plus, I’m getting exercise without the risk of being catapulted into a Nautlius machine.
Just…do me a favor. If you’re going to try this yourself, make sure you watch where you’re stepping so you don’t inadvertently invade the personal space of a large alpha male Canadian Goose.
Because it will chase you. Like the one that is chasing me now.
PS – Somebody call animal control.