I love to read. And I read constantly. I always have at least two or three books going. I am a publisher’s dream. And my budget coordinator’s nightmare (yes, that’s me..but the title sure sounds good). Despite my un-medicated ADD, I read books. And I even finish them. Sure, sometimes I misplace them. But that’s ok. I just go buy another so I can finish. Like I said, a publisher’s dream.
Life would be so much easier if I could just use the local library. In fact, I do use our local library. Once or twice a year. The only problem is I seem to have a mental illness when it comes to borrowing and returning. Every six months or so, I decide I can and should overcome this issue of slight irresponsibility. I bravely walk through the doors. Smell the aroma of books surrounding me. And for a day, I am in heaven.
So, I come home, arms piled full of books (I said they were kind…they still let me check out TONS of books at once)….and for a few days I bask in the splendor of reading FREE books. Ahhhh….mazing.
But then, a few days pass, I finish all my new and exciting reading material….and I forget about my loaned books. It’s not that I intentionally keep them. I just don’t think about it. I’m an impulse, spur of the moment, fly-by-the-seat of my pants kind of gal. That just doesn’t go well with Responsible Library Card Holder.
Last spring I decided to give it another shot. I was spending a fortune on books and HATED my new Nook. I wanted to hold a book and it look like a book, smell like a book, and feel like a book. Ever since wasting the hubby’s $200+ on the Nook, I felt guilty about buying new books. I froze in guilt every time I entered Barnes and Nobles or Books a Million. I came to the conclusion the library was my answer. They always took me back. I would try again.
Four months or so later, I still have the same library books. Sitting next to my bed under the end table. And one day last week the dreaded phone call came. It’s the library lady. Apparently, she’s not feeling so nice anymore. I say hello and the response I get on the other end of the line…
“Robin, return your crap!”
Oooops. Maybe I’ve finally crossed the line. We go on to have a wonderful conversation about our families. But the message was clear. Return the goods. I was suddenly having dreams of the Godfather and of horse’s heads in MY bed. After waking up a few times in the middle of the night covered in sweat, I break down.
I did it.
I finally returned my library books. Four+ months later. Give or take a few weeks.
I’m a library loser.
I admit it.
Admission is the first step in recovery. I know. I’ve been here for years. I just might be stuck here forever. Anyone wanna loan me a book until payday??