Concentration is a trait that my husband possesses.
Sometimes he comes to the mall with me and once he's done looking for what he needs, he finds a chair in the middle of the mall and reads until I'm done. When we meet up again he always tells me how many pages he got read. Sometimes it's 100 or more.
I find this unbelievable because if I ever attempted to read in the midst of a mall I'd get so sidetracked by one of my favorite hobbies ~ people watching ~ that I'd be lucky to read 3 pages and I probably wouldn't remember what I read because my skills for concentration are a bit different than his.
I'd like to say that the noise and activity in the mall is what distracts me, but it seems my concentration can be broken in the quiet of my own home too. For instance, this afternoon I sat down in the living room to do some reading. After reading a few pages, my eye went to this:
This yellow table is something I bought a few years ago at an antique store. It sort of got set in this location, but I wasn't fond of the bright yellow, especially next to the yellow floral sofa.
As I continued reading, my mind began wandering to a can of paint I had in the laundry room. I tried to keep reading, but before long ...
Out came the paint. Unfortunately I didn't have any green spray paint, but the first coat went on pretty quick.
As the first coat of paint was drying, I resumed my reading.
I don't know how many pages I read, but I knocked off a few chapters before it was time to do the next coat.
Okay, I may not have a great power of concentration, but ...
once in a while I can kill 2 birds with one stone.