I've gone off the rails again. On my trips to the Central Library I usually consult my list of books that I'd like to read and search for them first before wandering off getting distracted by interesting-sounding titles. But today! Having somehow not made a visit there for a strangely long time, I lost all sense of proportion and simply pawed through all the shelves in front of my face. Lucky for the librarians I didn't actually end up eating any of their precious books. Still, they were kindly and looked at me quite indulgently when they saw me scrabbling through the very highest shelf with what must have been a fiendish look on my face.
J always awaits my return from these excursions eagerly. His reading habits are diametrically opposite to mine, you see. He prefers strictly non-fiction titles, sticking to lighthearted topics such as the Stasi, Russian labor camps, arduous journeys to the Antarctic, or then the inner workings of the human genome or the 900-page thoughts of anthropologists. I too have my fair share of these tomes, but on the whole I will go for the made-up stories, even fantasies of late.
I had to do the customary book-showing when I got home of course. By the sixth book, he simply started laughing. How had I lugged this burden on my shoulder all the way across town, he wanted to know. No doubt he remembers my moaning when I used to carry my laptop bag to work a couple of years ago, how I used to whine! But if it's full of juicy new books I am quite the sturdy little mule.
Now to see if the novels match up to my self-created hype.