I know, I know. I kind of went back on my promise and went incognito (AGAIN). But I’m back (AGAIN).This time, I actually have a good excuse.
After my last post, a lot of things started going on. It started with some personal things that were going on, then slid to vacation. At first my mom and I planned on going to someplace like Gatlinburg, Tennessee or the beach. Well, plans changed and we ended up going to visit relatives in Michigan with my grandmother tagging along- oh, and don’t worry, it was still fun.The whole week we visited family member after family member. It was fun, don’t get me wrong. Still, AN INTROVERT HAS TO BREATHE. In order to do that, I went to my safe place:
Despite the fact that I already have two bookshelves full and several stacks of books in my closet, what else was I supposed to do but go book shopping?
Total count: 40
Of course, there were other things that I got and collected, but mostly what I got is obvious.
Once I got home and spread the books out to go through my titles, I realized: I have a serious problem.
When I first began learning how to read mom and I would go to the library every month. We’d come home with only a few books that mom would read to me every night before bed. My book pile started small; two or three books here and there, nothing big. But then, it grew. I’d take home fifteen to even twenty books sometimes. It went on a year or two, until we weren’t reading the books fast enough and started missing the return dates. Then mom started taking me to bookstores. Of course, that was a mistake.
Another instance was in elementary school. We had these events called book fairs, and it was like a mini book store that students could go to and buy books. It lasted about one week out of the year and it would always include a family night at the end of the week for the families to come and walk around with their children and check it out themselves. Every year for five consecutive years would my mom and I attend this book fair. That’s when the problem got worse. I personally think it was mom’s fault, and let me explain to you why.
So, mom and I would be walking through the school library (where the book fair was held) and mom would browse through the books while I would wander off to find the books that I liked. No matter what genre it was, mom would come up to me on several occasions with books in her hands and let me read the backs of them. Here’s the problem: I hated reading synopses. Absolutely hated them. Hence, when mom would give me a book to read the synopsis of, I’d pretend to read it, then say: “Sounds great!” and place it in the bag.
We’d end up going home with about three bags of books and an empty wallet.
And on this would go. Even now, as I’m older and in high school, I just pick books off the shelf that look cool and put them in the basket. Occasionally nowadays I’ll read what it’s about, but, now that I’m obsessed with books, I still can’t stop buying. Like the other day when I came out of Salvation Army (or Salvo’s as my wonderful aunt calls it) with eleven books. Hey, but don’t blame me, when there’s a sale, you know you gotta have ’em!
In conclusion: never take me to a bookstore.You never know what I’ll find.
Happy Reading!! xoxoxo