This morning before I hurriedly left the apartment, I tried to gauge how much I had left in my book. I had about 100 pages (a thirdish) still to read and inwardly debated on whether or not I should bring my next book with me. (No need to comment on how crazy it is to consider bringing a back-up book when I still had 100 pages to go. I already know.) Anyone who knows me remotely well knows that my go-to choice would be to bring the second one. Just in case. You never know if you're going to be stuck in traffic or waiting in a too-long line or stranded somewhere (anywhere) where you could be bored for who-knows-how-long. You just never know, and my theory has always been a just-in-case-you-never-know-just-bring-another-book theory.
In a moment of uncharacteristic reader recklessness I opted to bring the most recent issue of BYU Magazine instead. I think I'm a little book paranoid, I told myself. Chillax. You still have 100 pages to read.
And here's the thing. I didn't know that I would end up reading during my lunch hour because the TV room would be occupied. I didn't know that finishing my book this afternoon was inevitable. And I didn't know that I would not really be in the mood for BYU Magazine when it became my only reading option.
Lesson learned: You never know. So bring the second book. Just in case.