Two books arrived in my mailbox; three more downloaded to my Kindle. I had listened to a podcast whose message I appreciated and felt moved to send them a comment.
My confidence at getting any of it done was mediocre. But as a junior high kid, I read seven books per week without breaking stride except perhaps to limp slightly as the ungainly lumps of book shifted on my back on the way home.
How is it we adults get to be so overloaded? My thirteen-year-old self offers some answers.