Spiraling Notions

Small Obsession...?

I have this unmitigated need to buy books. It does not matter if I may never read them. I love the smell and feel of books. There is something really romantic and special about books. To me, a book is like a doorway to someplace new. It is a little like my obsession with blank notebooks, sketchbooks and empty buildings. There is something magical about the possibilities that could exist. While it is a little more narrow with a book about something specific the feeling is the same. I buy books because I love them and love to learn what they have inside them. My mother would exhaustively beg me to “just go to the library” when I was younger, but the library was a different type of magic and not the same as holding “my” book and keeping it.

Conversely, I really dislike the holidays. I grew up in a house where holidays really should have been fun, and would have, accept you had to be with family. Even holidays now are a bit unpleasant. I do really try and see the best in people, but being a cynic makes that really hard. This is specially true because that old lady almost knocked me down to get at that scarf set on sale before I had a chance to look at it. But for whatever subliminal reason I, like everyone else, tend to buy things during the holidays.

BUT

If I buy books - well then I am educating myself!

It seems as good an excuse as any...

My latest forage into the horribly maintained “craft” stacks at Barnes & Noble found me sneaking The Fleece & Fiber Sourcebook from my significant other. At least there are no patterns I will never knit... and I can call it reference... right? So what if I had to build 4 more bookshelves to accommodate some more of my library, damn it, its what I love.

Behold my inner librarian.

I just wish that books weren’t so heavy.

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