The Problem

I have a problem...well...an addiction really. I've never really been able to resist this temptation on my own. It has several names but always takes the same form. When I get close to it, my mouth becomes dry and my hands sweaty. I'm sure that if I were able to look in a mirror, my face would have gone pale and my eyes perhaps dilated. It has the most wonderous smell and the most delightful sound. What is it, you ask? Has our friend, Sarah, succumbed to some drug? Well, perhaps to you it would not be a drug, but to me it has always been mind-altering and character changing. Simply put, a bookstore.

Twice this weekend, I found myself with various peoples at two Border's locations. Each time, I tried to be good and stay at the front of the store and simply scowl at the horrid YA fiction, but I slowly wound my way to the Children's section where my hands suddenly found themselves full of the crisp new stuff of gods. I am a-feared that I have passed my addiction on to my children. They are more excited about new books than new toys. Yes!!

Worse, perhaps was that I completely lost sight of all those who were in my group. Then, like one suffering from tunnel vision, I found myself suddenly with a volume of Sylvia Plath poetry in my hands and thumbing through a little Yeats and marveling over a new Salmon Rushdie novel. Twice, one of my party tried to draw me back to the land of the living before I could resurface. Finally, as I wound my way to the front of the store, I found everyone waiting for me. A blush falls over my face and I mumble an apology, and yet I already know that it would happen again the next time. OOHHH, the next time!! I can hardly wait!