I found myself recently doing one of the sillier things I can recall. I'd sat down on my bed, turned on my bedside lamp, and set down the book I'd carried upstairs beside me. After accomplishing all of this, I proceeded to pull out my phone and spend the next ten-to-fifteen minutes scrolling through Amazon listings for the best bookmarks I could find. None of them particularly struck my fancy, and no more pages had been read in that time.
The bookmark I'm currently using is a clean, folded Kleenex. It served it's purpose perfectly, but I felt that its material was somehow disrespectful to the book — that it deserved something of higher quality that I paid for with capital-R, capital-M Real Money.
After those ten minutes had passed of me mindlessly scrolling through an online storefront, I realized I'd already done the least respectful thing I could to the book. I set it aside.
It took me less than ten minutes to write this. If you need me, I'll be reading; Scout's honor.