When I was growing up my parents encouraged us to read, every chance we got. On occasions where the family was all together -- like Thanksgiving -- it was always all of us sitting around, with our nose in a book. We had conversations, over the tops of our books, but we were not forced to converse just because we were in proximity.
All that changed with my first wife. She would not allow me to bring a book to Thanksgiving ("It's RUDE to sit and read!") so I came to dread get-togethers with her family. I had to sit and make "small talk" about things I didn't care about with people I shared nothing but breeding with their sister/daughter.
Same story with the present Mrs NoCo, no books allowed. Accordingly I have always given myself permission to leave early, with one excuse or another, so I can come home and read or do whatever. Her family knows I am autistic, or near enough to it.
With Thanksgiving coming up again I am dreading the event, it's pleasant enough seeing her family but an hour or two is my limit.
I'd rather be home reading.
Home 
