I'm not sure how it exactly happened, but I was somehow drawn in to Robert Jordan's Wheel of Time series. I've read the entire series—that is now awaiting one last installment following Jordan's death a few years ago—probably five times. Maybe six.
I've been pestering my husband to read these books for going on five years now, and he finally picked up the first book the other day. Seeing him start the book made my mind water, so I came up with a great idea: Let's read the books out loud to one another.
I should have known that I would end up reading them out loud to myself. My husband tends to fall asleep when confronted with books, movies, or any other activity in which he can make himself comfortable. It's an uncanny knack—nay, it is a gift—that he can fall asleep whenever and wherever. But he has been a champ; he stays awake as long as his brain will let him, and I catch him up on what he missed. It has been so pleasant, and my reading-out-loud voice is getting really good. But in reading a book out loud, you begin to notice things that your mind might have scanned over before (because with Jordan's drawn out descriptions of Illian and Tear, my mind starts to wander, so I scan).
One of the things I've noticed: He says "abruptly." Like, A LOT.
I've said it so many times, the word has lost all meaning to me. It even looks weird to me. Ugh. A-B-R-U-P-T-L-Y. Look at that! Those letters were never meant to be that close to one another!
Stop using "abruptly"!