I have a problem. It’s kind of bad and a little embarrassing. Remember that time I moved everything I own into a storage unit?
In that tiny 4.5X8.5 space, there are fifteen boxes of books, not counting music books and other sheet music. Just books. Fifteen boxes of them. What is the one thing I own more of than anything else? Books! And what store is always the death of me? Barnes and Noble!
It’s an addiction! And it’s terrible!
I know, I know. I’m an author, and authors are supposed to like books. But I own books I haven’t even gotten to read! I’ll buy four, get through two, buy four more. It’s an endless, vicious cycle of the compulsive need to buy more books! And I own a nook! But it doesn’t matter. I want the weight of the paper in my hands. I want to see the spine on the bookshelf I don’t currently own.
I went to Barnes and Noble the other day with the express purpose of buying an adult coloring book for road trips. The husband knew before we went in that I was to be kept away from books on penalty of having to pay to take them home.
I went in and found the coloring books and picked one out. But there was a special display table of coloring books. It was just a little bit down the aisle. Not far at all. Trying to keep my book-buying blinders on, I went and found the coloring book I was destined to own, but then I saw a book cover.
It was like a siren’s song. I had to walk toward it. To hold it. Maybe just read a tiny bit of the back blurb to find out what the cover meant. And then I was there, and there was another cover and another blurb.
And my enabler husband didn’t even try to stop me! He handed me books to look at! Indulged me in taking pictures of books so I could remember to buy them for my nook later!
Then he let me get all the way to the Young Adult section! Which was halfway across the store from the coloring books!
Thank God I’m a book addict and not a crack addict or I would have freakin’ OD’d, and the man would have laughed indulgently! Which I love him for, but still! I have to pack my whole life into a car or a storage unit, and I don’t need more things. Except maybe one more book. That I bought to go with my coloring book.
And the one I ordered online that hasn’t come yet, and I’m going crazy cause I want it right now.
And the ones in my closet on the shelf that I’m pretty sure is meant for shoes.
I have a problem. And my problem comes with an ISBN.
This post first appeared on Lifebeyondexaggeration | What Doesn't Kill You Mak, please read the originial post: here