Last night before bed, I was complaining to Billy that I had to start reading this book before classes even begin. (Full title: The Rise of Public Science: Rhetoric, Technology, and Natural Philosophy in Newtonian Britain, 1660-1750, by Larry Stewart)
He was not buying it. "You signed up for this," he told me. He also reminded me that I like it. (I did not remind him that not only did I sign up for it, I exhausted myself for 18 months for the opportunity to do it.)
When I suggested that I should get a little bit of a break because I read a whole book the day before (Achebe's Things Fall Apart), he told me that all I'd done was proven his point. "But anyone would rather read a story than an essay," I tried to get him to acknowledge.
"If it was all candy and gumdrops, everyone would have a PhD," he said.
I love my husband.
(And dare I admit, I began the book today, and I actually find it quite interesting. And he will find it interesting, too, when I've read enough of it to talk to him about it. Though he might not admit it.)
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