What is the story with all the fun young adult book series that have the ability to suck away an entire weekend’s worth of time, leaving you breathless and exhausted on Monday, but aching for more? Surely there are books out there that are a little more suited to my age, but for the life of me I can’t seem to summon the same extreme zeal for them.

For example, I, along with half of the world, fell prey to the great Harry Potter pandemic that devastated the productivity of responsible men, women, and children everywhere. I bought the final book the day it became publicly available, and I read it all the way to end, almost without ceasing.

When Wes stumbled across my inert form, laying curled up on the couch where it had remained since the day I came home with the book, he suggested that perhaps I might want to eat something, or perhaps maybe even just shower a little?

In return, I suggested that he might want to mind his own business as I was in the middle of dealing with Voldemort and couldn’t bother with his concerns.

Yep, there’s a good reason Wes’ eyes widen in fear whenever I come home with a shiny new book with the word “Series” written across the front. Another notable example is the Dark Tower series by Stephen King. When I get started on those, I don’t emerge from that world for at least two weeks.

Oh sure, I’ll eat, drink, cook, and sleep like a normal human being but I simply am not there. My mind is with Roland, and his gunslingers, and their epic quest to save the Dark Tower.

Last Thursday, a friend at work recommended that I wrap my head around the Twilight series. She brought the first book to work with her and I took it home, ready for anything. You see, it’s right up my alley: it deals with vampires.

Done and done, is all I’m saying.

I have a thing for vampires. Always have, I suppose I always will. I’ve read all of Anne Rice’s books, for example, and count Interview With a Vampire among my favorite movies. It’s just a topic that’s always intrigued me.

Well, I started the book on Thursday night. I made a feeble promise that I would wait to start the book until I finished my novel, but the promise sounded hollow when I said it. The moment I started the book I was gone. I’m making a conscious effort to be mentally present when I’m talking to people, but a compelling book series is like heroin for me. When it’s gone, I’m never really free from it.

I finished the book in three days and today I practically tackled my friend to ask her to bring the second book of the series to work with her tomorrow. She may or may not ever talk to me again, so deranged was I in explaining the importance of that book to my general health, but I know I can bribe her back into being friends with me with some Pho. After all, it’s her fault I got into this mess.

I’m aware that the movie comes out on Friday, but I probably won’t go see it. My imagination is so much more fun than a movie, so I have no doubt it will only disappoint me. Why pay for a sure disappointment?

I know for a fact that I’m not the only one who’s all tied up in knots over the Twilight series. My only confusion is why I hadn’t heard of it until just now. How could I have missed this?