My array of Christmas books on my bedside table.
I go to an old book store north of here. Dusty.
The young man at the counter follows me around to chat. It has been a lonely morning.
He mentions that it was cold that morning. That his hands were frozen by the time he got to the subway.
I look up at him, away from the rows of old books.
“You came from Toronto?” I ask.
He stares back at me.
“No, the store.”
When another customer appears, he moves on to them.
I bought a journal about a year ago that came out of the success of a book called The Happiness Project.
So then I got the book out of the library.
Gretchen Rubin was a happy person; she just figured she could be happier. So she decided to improve on her happiness quotient month by month with assignments for herself (I especially liked Be Kinder to My Husband – so did he).
I read January, March, April, May. Then I stopped. While I respected her intention, I couldn’t disregard the disparities between her and me.
I closed the book when she was struggling with Start A Collection. I couldn’t wrap my head around her disinterest in doing so. There had been other differences, that was just the final straw. Maybe I needed to stop reading about her happiness and get on with mine.
This is my Harry Potter face.
It looks angry but it is more confused (only partially angry). I am the one who stops the movie, asks again: “What is going on?”
“What’s a Death Eater?”
“What’s a BLOODY HORCRUX!?”
“Who is Scabbers again?”
“Did he say Crucio? What does that mean?”
“When can we start watching James Bond again?“Print
I like to buy things and receive them through the mail rather than go into stores and shop. Books, coats, shoes, toys, cds, trinkets.
I anxiously open the mail box each Monday through Friday. Sometimes, days go by with nothing but flyers, junk, a bill, a letter from Jim Flaherty. Then one day there are five packages.
These 3 books came at once. I hate it when that happens. I would like them to be spaced out evenly, a surprise a day.
Oshawa Library has a big book sale every 6 months. The last time I went, I scored a pile of old movie books, mostly on William Randolph Hearst’s San Simeon.
This time around, I find some books for the kids and some interesting bios. It can be tough, though – old book sale people can be pushy.