I like books.


I live in a small town and enjoy writing about the inhabitants. I spend most of my time perusing through used book stores looking for that one great book that I don't have; consequently, I have rooms filled with books. I am a book addict.

Monday, January 16, 2006

What am I doing?

Okay, here’s the thing. My husband is in undergraduate school and is taking many of the classes that I have already taken. I still have all my English books, so when he takes these classes, he uses my books. This morning he announces that he needs my reasoning books. I say they are on the shelf, he says where, I say there, he says I don’t have time for this, I say neither do I. Before he walks out the door, he says just find the books. Now, I found the Chaucer book, which was on the shelf with British Lit. I found the Novel books, which were on the American Lit shelf. See where I’m going with this? The books are there, organized, he just refuses to look. He sees me as his personal secretary, his assistant, his laundry woman, his cook, his everything. So today, I refuse to find the book. It’s there, on the shelf with philosophy books. How hard is that?


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