I crack myself up.
I love books… I ESPECIALLY love psychology books and love to buy new ones any chance that I get. I can spend hours in my local bookstores, literally sitting in the aisles with several books sprawled out in front of me like they are auditioning… I read through them, choosing random pages, and I often will buy them all. As you can imagine, that gets very expensive! At one point I had to limit myself because spending 100$ a week on books is not a good idea when you barely have money to spend. So I reasoned with myself that I could buy one book a month… and the other 5 I think I need, I borrow from the library. 🙂 The plan was a success!
So here I am at home, bored with what is on Netflix. I think of all my awesome books and I rummage through the shelves until I am satisfied with the ones in my grasp. I sit down with them and ambitiously scour through them, looking for whatever may pertain to me in this moment… big or small.
Within minutes, my desire to psycho-analyze myself has passed and I am once again participating in life… the stack of books sitting here, notes scribbled about, collecting dust. I never want to put them away, because I could certainly need them in a quick moment and should have them within reach… right?
That is how I roll.