Gerry drops me off at the door and goes to fill the car with gas. I flash my card to the Costco gatekeeper and walk In—along with a herd of other people who got here early, hoping to get in and out, before it gets too busy.

I head for the books. I always head for the books first. I’m calm as I stroll along the book table, pausing now and then to pick one up and read the synopsis. I spot a couple (Who am I kidding? More than just a couple.) of books that are on my mental TBR (to be read) list.

You don’t need any more books, I tell myself.

I just, last week, pulled a couple of books off of my bookshelf that I haven’t read yet, and intend to. There’s a stack of partially read books next to my chair in the living room. There is that handful I picked up at a book sale last month. And there are a few unread on my Kindle, too.

I tear myself away and head for the freezer section.  Gerry finds me there a few minutes later, and I hand him the box of appetizers in my hand. We we survey the selection and choose a couple more for Christmas Eve. I think we’re done, but Gerry spots a few random things he wants to check out. (Squirrel!) Finally we head in the general direction of the front of the store to checkout.

“Don’t let me stop at the books,” I tell him as we walk.

He either doesn’t hear me, or chooses to accept the futility of trying to keep me from books. Either way, I make a sharp left turn toward the books and he follows.

“Check out those ones on that side,” I tell him. “There’s some you’ll like.”

I feel a twinge (just the smallest ping) of guilt at trying to lure him into my bibliophilia. It passes, as I rest my hands on one of the books I saw earlier. I just leave it there for a minute, and try to muster up the strength to walk away.

It was easier when I read exclusively on my Kindle. I’d come, and browse, but not feel the temptation to purchase. But I’m returning to the pleasures of reading paper books now, and the lure is harder to resist.

Finally, I just give up trying. I picture myself on the sofa in front of the fireplace, reading socks keeping my toes cozy, and a quilt keeping the rest of me that way, lost in the story contained between the covers of this book. I pick it up.


I’m a writer, reader, and creative. I thought by now I’d have things figured out, but I keep coming up with more questions. I think that’s okay. I’m here most mornings pondering ordinary things.
  1. I’ve decided that keeping my addiction to books fed is just too expensive! So we (Bob and I) have been going to the library once every three weeks. I’ve discovered that it’s work to get the most out of the experience. You have to spend time on their website to make sure the books you want are ordered, and of course, you have to make sure you return them on time! But this way, I get to read many more books than I would buy, and I don’t clutter up my home with stacks of books!

    1. Yes! I’ve been frequenting our local library more this year too. I agree, it takes intention to use it most effectively. There’s also no record kept of which books I borrow! which puts the onus on me to keep track if I want to look back at the end of the year—which I do. Also, there have been more than a few books I wanted to read this year that aren’t available at the library. Still, I love our library. It’s a great place to hike away for a couple of hours to write too!

  2. Your title of this post drew me in. I guess I’m in the same sinking boat that you are. But then, I think most authors suffer from the same malady. Merry Christmas, Linda. Look forward to more posts from you in the new year.

    1. It’s good to have company in this sinking, but well-read, boat, Judy! Merry Christmas to you too.

  3. Kind of gives you an appreciation for what those who struggle with more harmful addictions, go through on a constant basis, doesn’t it?

    1. Yes, I was thinking the same thing as I wrote this, Ruth.

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