literary gluttony

Christmas week is not the time for discipline.
It is not the time for lofty reading goals, perfectly curated TBRs, or pretending my attention span hasn’t been completely hijacked by cookies, wrapping paper, and low-grade existential exhaustion.

So this week? I’m breaking rules. Bookish ones. Intentionally.

Rule #1: “Finish what you started.”
No. Some books are January books. Some are “I need more brain cells for this” books. And some are simply not matching the chaotic-neutral vibe of Christmas week. If a book isn’t working right now, I’m setting it down without guilt and without a dramatic breakup speech.

Rule #2: “Stick to your TBR.”
My Christmas-week TBR is a suggestion at best and a lie at worst. If a random library hold shows up, a comfort reread starts calling my name, or I suddenly need a book that feels like a warm hug instead of a challenge—I’m answering the call.

Rule #3: “Read every day.”
Reading is supposed to fit into my life, not bully its way to the front of the line. Some days this week will be full of family, errands, late nights, or just being tired. Missing a day—or several—does not make me less of a reader.

Rule #4: “Power through distractions.”
I will be interrupted. A lot. I will read in short bursts, skim when my brain is fried, and reread the same paragraph twice because someone asked me a question mid-sentence. That counts. It all counts.

Rule #5: “December is for festive reads only.”
Sometimes the most comforting thing is a book with absolutely zero holiday vibes. If I want dragons, angst, murder, or a moody romance set literally anywhere else—I’m not forcing tinsel into the experience.

Rule #6: “Finish the year strong.”
This one is especially overrated. I’m not sprinting to the finish line. I’m strolling. Crawling. Possibly napping. Reading doesn’t need to be a performance, especially during a week that already demands so much from us.

Rule #7: “You should be grateful for uninterrupted reading time.”
Listen. I love quiet reading days. But Christmas week is messy, loud, emotional, and full of obligations. Reading in ten-minute pockets while the world buzzes around me is still reading—and sometimes it’s exactly what I need.

Rule #8: “DNFs are failures.”
DNFs are information. They tell me what I don’t have the capacity for right now. And right now, my capacity is reserved for comfort, ease, and books that don’t ask me to work too hard.

This week, reading gets to be soft.
It gets to be imperfect.
It gets to bend around life instead of fighting it.

If I finish a book—great.
If I start three and finish none—also fine.
If I reread something I already love because my brain needs familiarity—honestly, ideal.

Christmas week reading isn’t about rules.
It’s about survival, joy, and giving ourselves permission to meet the season exactly where we are.

And if that means ignoring every bookish “should” in sight?
So be it.