People who've been reading me for a couple years might remember that every June here is our local library book sale where I go batshit crazy at the bag sale (six bucks a paper bag) and see how many hundreds of books I can bring home that I really don't have the room for.
2011's take (and, oh, how I miss you Frankie!)
Tomorrow is the book sale. And I'm broke and a week away from payday. Can you believe that? How can I have let that happen? Why would I let that happen?
Sigh. Truthfully, I don't need to go to that sale. If you've seen pictures of the house, been in the house, you know it's only a matter of time till the floor falls three feet to the ground from the combined weight of what was at last count, fifteen thousand books.
But I want to go to that sale with a hunger that's greater than my hunger for chocolate cake (and I just ate a delicious piece of red velvet cake). Oh so badly. The thought of what I might be missing at that sale, what gems I could bring home...well, let's just say I'm salivating.
Sigh. Some obsessions are so hard to fight. So very hard. My living room floor needs to be filled with inexpensive and lovely new worlds to sink into. I wonder if I really count my pennies? Hmmmmm, maybe.