So, there is no defense (for why I read romance novels). I'm already there. I thought it would take a little longer. Or to be more specific: there's no defense for the obsessive way I've been reading them for the past couple of years. Back when my daughter was young, I decided it was time to go back to work when I found myself writing a paper in my head entitled "Feminist Subtexts in the Lyrics of Disney's Mulan" after having watched (or been in the house while my daughter watched) said movie over and over and over again. Some of us just aren't meant to be stay-at-home moms. So maybe this time I'm figuring out that the time to do something new is when I'm mentally starting to categorize and analyze the various standard plotlines of romance novels. Oh, ouch. I'm a little embarrassed to admit this. Not exactly ashamed, because there are good reasons I've been going nuts this year and not all of them reflect badly on me. But it's time to move on. I'm sure I'll still read my favorite authors (and I know of no better way to pass a plane ride or an afternoon at the beach), but I think my days of entertaining myself ad nauseum with this stuff are over.
darn it.
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