Just One More Page

Just one more reason to love the library.

The other day I popped by the library to pick up a book I had on reserve when I noticed a shelf with books on sale. I love two things:

1. Books
2. Deals

So I naturally had to browse. I was delighted to go home with The Handmaid's Tale and Brave New World for the big price of $1.

And to top it off, I got a card in the mail that a new second-hand book shop is opening in my city. This is big news for me since I live in one of those suburbs where you can find every sort of fancy chain restaurant and chain retail store you can possibly think of, where there are about 16 different chain gyms and trendy lifestyle shopping centers with stores so new the sawdust has barely settled. But sadly, unique little local shops and second-hand sellers don't exist here. So with a second hand book in my city, it's doubtful that I will continue my non-book-buying trend. I get a little crazy when paperbacks are $.50.

Just One More Page

Last week I was deep into Speaker for the Dead and 10 o 'clock rolled around. I usually go to bed around 10, 10:30ish, because I get to work at 8am. I wasn't quite ready to go to bed yet; the book was getting kind of interesting. So I told myself I'd just finish the chapter and continue to read the next day, after work. Reading might be my guilty pleasure, but I was in control, I'd finish the chapter, and that would be that.

You know what happened next. The siren call of the book lured me in and lowered my defenses. One chapter led to another. Led to another. Somewhere in the wee hours of the night I finally said "enough is enough! I have to work tomorrow! I am in control of this addiction!" Even though I was just a few pages from the end of the book, I finally managed, with herculean effort, to put down the book and stumble into bed.

I awoke the next day and three thoughts went through my brain.

1. Ouch it hurts to be awake
2. Oh this means I can read again.
3. Oh crap this also means I have to go to work.

I read furiously during my spare seconds before work, cursing the clock. Could I call in sick? Nah, no time off built up yet. Could I be late and blame it on traffic? Too iffy, the weather was perfect outside. I would just have to suck it up and appear normal at work. No one need know about my secret addiction. I covered up the bags under my eyes as best as I could, but my reflection in the mirror looked tired no matter how much makeup went on.

All day at work, my fuzzy brain would wander during the spare seconds to the book. 7 hours til I have that delicious pleasure of reading again. 6 hours til I have that delicious pleasure of reading again...

And so on. After I raced home and finished the next few pages, I conked out immediately on the couch. The rest of the week I spent trying to catch up from my late night.

I'd like to present this as if it was a one-time thing. A secret dalliance with my drug of choice. I'm really a casual reader, it never interferes with my social and/or mental health.

OKAY I admit it. I'm hooked. I've had problems putting the book down at night since I was a kid. Just one more page... lies I tell myself so that I can keep reading. The first step is admitting the problem, right? Alright, confession time's done. Okay, back to Brave New World. I've got some time before bed. Just one more page...