Books

I love books. I have many. My husband thinks I have an addiction problem with my books. When it is suggested to me to get rid of a few because 'you only read them once,' I am offended. I remember when we moved three years ago. I did get rid of a box, a small box, of books, and it was almost painful. I don't know what it is, but I just like to be able to go to a bookshelf and pick a book up about a certain subject, or to just know that I always have something to read, which is an understatement. A couple weeks ago, I was at our church thrift store with my mom and sis, and found some very neat old books. They were from the 1930's and 1940's, and one I found particularly interesting. It was a poetry book. The person who owned it sometime along the line, had scripted alternative verses to the poetry, and from the few I've read, it's pretty good. On many of them, she kept the first verse, maybe wrote down alternative words here and there, and on some she wrote in the margins entirely new verses. I write in, underline, and circle in my books all the time, so I found that book particularly interesting. I was looking at another large old book that was the early works of literature from 1908, but didn't get it, even though it looked interesting, and I immediately thought of my high school English teacher, Mrs. Love, when I started to flip through it because it had a lot of works of Shakespeare. Well, I've been thinking of that book for two weeks, so went back to see if it was still there on Saturday, and it was, so it now has a new home!

I hope to get to look through these books today. The crud bug bit me over the weekend, as well, so I will be staying home from work today. It provides me some time to read, and browse through those old books. Since books bring me comfort, maybe they will help me feel better as well.