I'm a librarian's daughter. I blame that for my obsession with all thinks bookish. Of course, it probably has little to do with that. But for whatever reason, I am a book fiend. I once bought a humorous book that outlined all the symptoms of being a bibliomaniac. Getting rid of furniture in order to fit more books into one's home (except, of course, for the comfy reading chair). Lying to one's family about having been at the bookstore - claiming in fact to have been, for example, at a bar rather than Barnes & Noble. In fact, sneaking the books into the house not in the tell-tale green bags, but in a Victoria's Secret bag.
Well, I'm the poster girl for insane book buying. Just ask my credit card companies. They just LOVE me. And the sudden downturn in the publishing industry? Probably because I've maxxed out the old plastic.
That, and the house is bursting at the seams with books. How many, you ask? Oh, well, roughly, maybe .... 20,000? So, what, is that a lot?
There are LIBRARIES with fewer books.
But come on. I don't splurge on clothes (no wisecracks from the fashion conscious - I've got a better vocabulary than you do and I'm not afraid to use it) - I don't have one of those costly hobbies like a man in my life (or a teenager...don't get me started). I don't travel, or dine out, and Imelda would simply sob over the pitiful state of my shoe collection (sneakers? check. Winter boots? check. 1 pair of worn out flats because my arches have falled from carrying around bags of books, CHECK.)
Instead I buy books. I collect books. I would die rather than pick through the trash for a piece of furniture, but spy a pile of moldering books, I'M SO THERE!
Any subject. Any author. Any condition. I'm not picky. I love them all.
Other people get hit on by drug dealers? I get hit on by the guy hawking books....
Can't you see it? He sidles over, that twitchy face, those beady eyes darting back and forth in search of a copper - He gives me that little grin, leans closer, pulls open the jack and says in that rusty hissing voice...
"Hey, lady, wanna buy a book?"
Well, I'm the poster girl for insane book buying. Just ask my credit card companies. They just LOVE me. And the sudden downturn in the publishing industry? Probably because I've maxxed out the old plastic.
That, and the house is bursting at the seams with books. How many, you ask? Oh, well, roughly, maybe .... 20,000? So, what, is that a lot?
There are LIBRARIES with fewer books.
But come on. I don't splurge on clothes (no wisecracks from the fashion conscious - I've got a better vocabulary than you do and I'm not afraid to use it) - I don't have one of those costly hobbies like a man in my life (or a teenager...don't get me started). I don't travel, or dine out, and Imelda would simply sob over the pitiful state of my shoe collection (sneakers? check. Winter boots? check. 1 pair of worn out flats because my arches have falled from carrying around bags of books, CHECK.)
Instead I buy books. I collect books. I would die rather than pick through the trash for a piece of furniture, but spy a pile of moldering books, I'M SO THERE!
Any subject. Any author. Any condition. I'm not picky. I love them all.
Other people get hit on by drug dealers? I get hit on by the guy hawking books....
Can't you see it? He sidles over, that twitchy face, those beady eyes darting back and forth in search of a copper - He gives me that little grin, leans closer, pulls open the jack and says in that rusty hissing voice...
"Hey, lady, wanna buy a book?"
Anyway, join me as I indulge my vice. As I talk about the books I've bought, want to buy, the ones I've started reading, finished reading, forgot I was reading and the ones I have never forgotten (and a few I have).
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