I’ve noticed that we developed a pattern.
1. We go to the library to see what’s there. Joe and I both quickly develop a crazed, oh-my-good-books look in our eyes as if we’ve never been there before.
2. We binge on books. The fear of overstepping the 50-item limit is with us until we see the librarian scan the very last item. Printing the library receipt takes uncomfortably long.
3. At home, we retreat to our respective corners and plunge into the latest finds.
4. An hour later, we’re visibly stressed as we realize just how many books we want to read and how little time we have [in life] to do so.
5. We stare at our piles of books and turn away to do something else.
6. A week passes. We get the idea to go to the library to see what’s there.
In other words, life is pretty great and libraries are beautiful, wonderful places and where would we all be without them.
Also we’ve taken some great walks and decided to stay put for another year. Maybe this time around things will make sense.
