Well, it’s not like this is news, isn’t it? I’ve been a certifiable addict long before I’ve been blogging. I thought about doing my Confessions year end post by giving you a total tally of my purchases for the year but I realized, I DON’T REALLY WANT TO KNOW. The fact is, I’m scared to know. So I decided to the next best thing – or worst thing. I logged into my Amazon account and figured out the number of books I’ve purchased for the year. I know, I know. This is hardly an accurate measure of my book buying binges. I visit my local bookstore once every Saturday and I’ve placed orders everywhere else. I even sought out an Australian on line book shop because of my love for Australian authors. And I’ve recently discovered BooksofWonder.com where I’ve just purchased a whole slew of autographed books. Gah.
So according to Amazon.com and Amazon.ca I’ve placed 80 orders in 2011. That’s not nearly as bad as I thought it would be. But then I got to thinking, for each order placed for the year, was that just one or two books? Well, it isn’t. I’ve amassed a staggering 602 books this year on purchases through Amazon alone. That is a 7.52 per order on average. This does not include my Kindle purchases! Good Lord. No wonder I’m so broke. This is like, Carrie Bradshaw’s sudden realization that her shoe purchases was the primary reason she was on the brink of homelessness. While I’m far from being homeless (fingers crossed), I could not even fathom the dollar value of my purchases for the year. The husband follows this blog but I doubt he reads my posts. I sincerely hope not. Besides, it’s not like I can hide my hoarding from him anyway. You won’t be able to walk into a room in the house without tripping over books.
The picture on the right is my to-be-read bookshelf. It’s stacks deep, I know. At this rate, my life would soon be over run by books (as if it isn’t yet). When did this madness ever begin, anyway? Damn Stephenie Meyer and her sparkly vampires! I blame her for this addiction to the YA genre. It was because of her books that I couldn’t get enough. OVERWHELMING seem like a word which could hardly describe the state of what started out to be a hobby. Now, I just can’t stop my panic buying. I have this sense of trepidation when I don’t get any books in the mail. And it’s gotten to a point where even my family has a schedule working around me. Our first agenda for Saturday is to hit Indigo ( a Canadian bookstore chain). Sometimes, it’s sad that they don’t even bother asking me anymore if I wanted to do something because they know the answer will always be, ‘It depends. Are we going to the bookstore?’
The thing is, it’s not like I’ve told my husband that he shouldn’t say NO to me. Or that he shouldn’t protest. I told him that he’s got free reign to tell me when enough is enough. But he said he’d rather I buy books than waste my money on purses, which I also have a severe addiction to. His response, though soothing at the time, could hardly placate my unease when I see my bursting bookshelves. I’m not complaining. The guy is a saint and I’m lucky that he hasn’t divorced me yet. I just don’t want to be that person. You know, the one that gets so lost in their personal vices they don’t even notice life passing them by. Whoa. That’s deep, man.
Anyway, there is a point to these inane ramblings. Throughout the year, I’ve collected books that I didn’t even realize I have dupli-copies of. At the time of this writing, I have counted 21. TWENTY freaking ONE books that I either, pre-ordered then bought at the store, or because I’m such a spastic loon that I didn’t even realized I have those books already. So…who wants them? Okay, okay. Calm down. I know you want them. Without further ado, ladies and gents, I present to you…dramatic drum roll…
FALLEN ANGEL by Heather Terrell
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