Succumbing to My Addictions: Books Are My Downfall


I had an unexpected adventure yesterday. I lost an object from my pocket a few days ago that is a daily-used tool, and so I tried to go buy another one…


…Except that the local store where I knew I could get the item had closed and the storefront was empty. Arrrgh. So knowing there was another store location 45 minutes south in another town, I decided it was an important enough mission to replace the object and I drove to the town. Unfortunately for me, the company had closed all of its Vermont store locations. ARRRRGH. After driving to several similar-product stores—none of which had the particular product—I decided not to waste the trip, and went to the famous family-owned bookstore located in that same town.


…That was probably a mistake, because books are my downfall, they are my bad habit, the bane of my checking account. And it was inevitable that I would find books to sate my addiction…that would contribute to the piles of books that sit in towers in my room on any and all surfaces because all the bookcases are already full…


There are worse addictions and habits. As addictions go, reading and stuffing one’s brain with writing and information from books isn’t that bad…it’s just that Temperance doesn’t visit me very often when I’m perusing books to add to my hoards.



But LOOK!!! All three titles contribute to the knowledge and clues that inform my further knowledge about tarot…  Tarot at the Crossroads: The Unexpected Meeting of Tarot & Psychology has been on my reading list for a good while now… it’s been on my Amazon Wishlist… but there have always been more pressing things to purchase. And sometimes a person wants to see the “innards” of a book before one spends the hard, cold cash for its possession. So when I found it in the sparse tarot section of this bookstore, and could finally see the chapters and sections and topics addressed, well… it was hard to pass up. Probably could have gotten it cheaper on Amazon… BUT IT WAS RIGHT THERE IN MY GRUBBY LITTLE HANDS. So it came home with me.


The other two books were periferal, impulse buys. They were both in the same section of the bookstore and happened to have caught my eye before I could escape. It was a devastating blow for my wallet. But somehow, addicts never really care so much about the coin it costs, do we? I’m not proud. But I’m not sorry.


Perhaps you’ll get book reviews of these titles sometime in the future, dear readers. For now, my nose shall dive into the creases of their paper leaves, and my eyes shall lick passages of words for a taste of insight, begging to get my écriture endorphin fix.





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