There are few activities more dangerous for me than being set free in a bookstore with a gift card and unlimited time. Among my hobbies, flying might take first prize for peril, but given my bibliophile tendencies, it’s only slightly more expensive. Anyway, a birthday gift card was egging me on, and each Sunday (the day I was often downtown) I hoped would be the time to finally spend it.
First off, I really did need to spend it. I have a terrible habit of hoarding pretty and precious items rather than spending or enjoying them, waiting for some illusory “right moment” to come along. And second, I’m an easy sell when it comes to a good book. Three out-of-town weekends and two car issues lay between me and my goal, but I eventually managed to escape into the winding rooms of my local bookstore.
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