As my income has risen and my living space expanded, buying more books than I can ever hope to read has grown from habit to addiction. I disagree with people who’d argue that it’s only appropriate to buy as many books as you’re planning to read; that’s akin to buying enough food for dinner and expecting your morning self to just figure something out. Morning selves should never be left to fend, and neither should morning minds.
So I keep my mental pantry heftily stocked. One woman’s hoarding is another woman’s intellectual smorgasbord.
But when I’m hungry for something new to know, there’s immeasurable comfort to be found in perusing my own unread bookshelves, Continue reading “Unpredictable Customer”