In the reading community, a TBR is the pile of books you haven’t read yet—but want to. It’s often forgotten in favor of the shiny new release or a Libby loan that comes due unexpectedly.
In life, we have TBRs too. They’re just not always books.
I’ve never considered myself a procrastinator, but as I’ve gotten older, I’ve noticed how easily I’m pulled off course by those shiny side trails—the winding paths that promise adventure, something new, something more than the familiar.
Call it wanderlust, or maybe just whimsy, but I’ve always loved seeing where those distractions might lead.
The truth is, they don’t always deliver. Sometimes they turn into an expensive hobby I abandon weeks later. Or an ill-advised trip booked on a whim. Whatever the outcome, more often than not, those detours would have been better left unexplored.
There’s something to be said for the TBR—the one that sits patiently, quietly waiting. The one that doesn’t demand your attention, but rewards it when you give it.
Sometimes, the steady and familiar path is the better choice.
Sometimes, it’s exactly where you’re meant to be.