In Which Soaring Soprano Needs A New...

...bookcase. Seriously.

Today, I realised what dangerous places bookstores can be.

After a lovely lunch, I headed out to Barnes & Noble with the sole intention of grabbing a tall Mocha Frappuccino and using the free wi-fi in an artsy environment (I find it helps me to write better... plus the air conditioning was nice on such a hot day...).

So, I arrived with my laptop bag slung over my shoulder, and resolutely stepped through the doors, fully intending to march directly to the cafe.

However, as the doors swung open to admit me into the cool, well-lit, comfy place that is our local Barnes & Noble Booksellers, I was attacked. My fellow bibliophiles will know what I mean when I say that I was suddenly assaulted by the irresistible scent of new books. There's something magnetic about the aroma of crisp, freshly printed, unread pages, and I found my pace slowing as my eyes gazed lovingly at the rows of delectable reading material.

I knew my fate was sealed when my gaze settled upon a table placed strategically by the doors. There, stacked in gleaming, glossy-jacketed, hard-covered glory, were numerous copies of a new book I had been wanting. And to top it off, an inviting little sign announced that the book was 40% off with a Member card (which I have).

I was mentally salivating.

I reached for and reverently picked up a copy, enjoying the feel of the slick cover beneath my fingers. I flipped gently through the pages, the distinct perfume of Eau d'new book wafting around me as the firm, turning pages fanned it about. I looked inside the dust jacket and found the price neatly printed on the upper corner... $13.99...

I immediately placed the book back on the table, one part of me foolishly trying to convince the other that it was too much to spend right now.

But the crazed book lover in me was too strong for that brief moment of self-control.

I hadn't taken more than two steps away from the table, before I turned back, snatched up a copy of the book and walked just as resolutely to the checkout counter.

I'm not sorry I made the purchase, but I sigh now as I realise two important things:

1) That I have a hopeless addiction for new books, and I cannot be trusted to walk into a bookstore without buying at least one book, no matter how determined I may be to the contrary.

2) I really need a new bookcase... Somehow I manage to convince myself that I can squeeze one more book on my already overfilled shelves, but this time there'll be no squeezing...

I suppose my next trip will be to the furniture store... Maybe they'll be having a 40% off sale, too?