Books, books everywhere and not enough time to read
I spend hours every day listening to our refrigerator die. When it makes its horrible wheezing-whirring sound, I wish for it to stop, and when it stops, I worry that this time it really is dead, and I want it to make some reassuring mechanical noise. I periodically go check it for signs of life, only this is a tricky business, since the lightbulb burned out many months ago and it stays dark when I open the door. It has lost the capacity to make reassuring noises. Our fridge really isn’t well.
You might think my terminally ill fridge is why I’m not buying any new books for the next five months, but you’d be wrong.
It isn’t so much that my gluttonous hoard of unread books has spilled over its allotted shelf space — well, okay, maybe that is part of it — but my burning desire to read so many of these books Right Now that has led me to declare a moratorium on new purchases. There are the most recent purchases from Vancouver, books borrowed from three different people, Christmas presents, etc., all clamoring for my attention. I need to focus on the books I already have available to me, so I’ve sworn off: I will not buy any books until our vacation this September.
By taking this drastic step, I hope to read through the backlog of great books. I also hope to create plenty of room on the unread shelf for vacation purchases. I can be patient, I can wait for books to be shipped from London when I buy so many they won’t fit in my luggage. Really, this whole thing is probably advance rationalization for all the money I’m going to spend later.
But damn will it be hard to not buy a single book for nearly five months. I don’t know that I’ve done that in my entire adult life. Temptation is everywhere. There is a new bookstore in Salem, Feed Your Head Books. George Saunders (sick funny genius) has a new book out. If I fall short of my goal, his book may be why. Do you suppose it is cheating if Lisa buys that one? She keeps reminding me she didn’t make any crazy no new books until London pledge.
So far, I’m consoling myself with the most recent issue of Art on Paper. I’ve decided magazines are ok, in moderation. It isn’t like I can get a refrigerator with magazine money — not the stainless steel kind that lives in my someday always clean future kitchen, anyway.
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