Holy cheese and crackers I cant stop reading.

I did something embarrassing, again. 

I went to the library and I got 4 TrueBlood books, and then I read them all in one sitting.  I know, it was bad enough that I got addicted to the HBO series sensation, but now I have started to read the borderline-smut associated with it as well. I cant stop.  I feel like Gollum, but with books instead of cursed jewelery.  I literally stopped sleeping and communicating, I lived like a hobo on the living room floor and my mother had to coax me to the kitchen for food with a trail of breadcrumbs and cheese.

I love it.  I haven’t found a book series that kept me enthralled like this one in ages and ages.  Okay, maybe not ages and ages, but at least like 2 months.  It may not be Paradise Lost, but it think this is the perfect book series for my retirement/exile to Virginia.  For one thing, my understanding of southern lingo is greatly improved, and I can hold it over Boyfriend's head that I know what happens next.

I like these books so much, I went to the library to get them.  And I hate the library.  I hate the library so much!  I am of the firm opinion that since I shared the womb I should never be required to share anything again, ever.  I should especially never have to share anything that I have read.

And I know its bad, this addiction, because not only am I going to the library now that I am unemployed and don’t have enough money to get my own digital Nook copies, I am now mad at the library for not being open on a Sunday.  (By the way, if I am not consuming paper, why does my copy cost as much as a paperback?  I am funding significantly less labor for my digital copy than I am for my paper one.  The price difference should be far greater than it is.  And for those of you who charge $12.99 for your digital book, you have obviously slipped down the slippery slope of Delusion into Fantasy-Land.)

My anger makes no sense, I know it makes no sense.  I would be less mad at my doctor if I broke my leg for not being open on Sunday than I am at the library not being open so I can read more TrueBlood novels.  If the library had a consciousness it would eject me like a snot wad because it would know how much disdain I have for it. Yet, like an addict, i am running back to the thing I hate just so I can have more of my drug.

I read so much yesterday, that when our company came over, I literally couldn’t talk.  My brain was so overloaded from 20 hours of constant reading that I couldn’t form thoughts.  Except for the thought that “I don’t want to eat dinner I want to read my book.”  I told one of my friends that if my parents interrupted me again for something stupid, like eating or feeding the dogs or moving for the vacuum cleaner, that I would murder the whole world and read quietly in the rubble and no one could ever bother me again.

That my friends, in the definition of an over-reaction.