Jul 27 2004
I am so Barnes and Noble’s bitch.
I went to Barnes and Noble after work and selected my Drummond Island reading material. The cashier actually said “Very eclectic book selection you have here.” I’ve never had anyone comment on my purchases before. I wonder if she thought I had multiple personalities.
And just a question, but did John Steinbeck write any long books? I have three of his books on my “to read…eventually” list: The Moon is Down, Of Mice and Men (yes, I’m the only one in the universe who hasn’t read it yet shut up) and The Pearl (which I read in 10th grade but wouldn’t mind looking at again). But seriously. All these books are teeny-tiny. I didn’t buy any of them because I didn’t want to haul three teeny-tiny books up when I could haul one bigger book.
Anyway, what made the cut:
Don Quixote by Miguel de Cervantes. This is the heavy hitter. I didn’t know it was such a big book. Big book, lots of pages. I doubt I’ll be done with it by the time we come home.
Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury. It was in the Sci-Fi section and not in Fiction/Literature. Who decides what is literature and what is just a book? What’s the difference anyway?
A Farewell to Arms by Ernest Hemingway. I’ve never read any Hemingway. This one sounded interesting, although Amazon promises “no happy ending”. But I get the feeling Hemingway didn’t do happy endings.
High Fidelity by Nick Hornby. I’ve done chick lit, now I guess it’s time for lad lit. This is my “not so heavy reading” book.
Some books got rejected for length (like all the Steinbecks) and some got rejected because I can only get so serious on my vacation. Although the above are not the cheeriest books ever to be written, not by a long shot.
Oh hell, you want the truth? I walked around with a couple titles in my head, and if I saw one of them, I picked it up. Except Fahrenheit 451. That one I made it my business to locate because it wasn’t where I expected it to be.
I also browsed the Reference section, where I obviously don’t spend NEARLY enough time, because they had a book there called The Hippie Dictionary. Rock. On. I toyed with the idea of picking up a Garner’s, but I couldn’t justify buying a big ol’ reference book right before a vacation when I knew damn well I wouldn’t be using it for awhile.
Only two days to go before vacation starts (I took Friday off to launder and pack things). I am so ready to leave right now. The more time I spend at work the more my head hurts. Normally, I’d be worrying about things like The House and The Cats, but this year I am worrying less because we have The Houseboy. I trust all the other folks I’ve asked to check in on my homes and animals over the past couple of years, but they didn’t live in the house or with the animals. Chris knows our routines, knows the little idiosyncrasies of cats and house, and I don’t have to remember to tell him that to unlock the front door you have to pull it out a bit before turning the key. He knows all that stuff.
But that doesn’t mean that I’m not leaving him a big piece of paper with instructions and emergency numbers on it. Sorry, Chris. You live with a paranoia freak. Just ask The Man. He’ll tell you.
In closing, I want to see this advertising campaign in public libraries as soon as possible:
Reading Fucking Rocks!
Young lady, there is no thrashing in the library!
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