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everything in moderation

Moderation has rarely been a word in my everyday vocabulary. It’s a wonder I’m not a raving drunk.

Three weeks ago, when I found a great bookshelf for myself, I finally got around to unpacking my boxes of books. I found four trashy novels that I had purchased a few years back but never got around to reading them. One of them I started to read immediately, even before I finished breaking down all the empty boxes that had housed my collection of beloved books. But the problem is, once I start, I just can’t stop. That book lasted me a total of 5.5 solid hours of reading and while I was thoroughly engrossed during the story, I couldn’t help but feeling a bit ripped off by the turn of the last page. Because of my own doing. I had read it entirely too fast. So I picked up another one and had a quarter of that polished off before the end of the night.

The next day, I finished the second book and felt a little more gratified because I had actually put down the book for a moment to eat lunch.

When I returned from my trip to Alberta and Saskatchewan a week ago, I dug into the third book that I had stowed away in my suitcase, but never got around to reading it because I was busy visiting all the time. I sat on my couch for two and a half days straight afterward; Stan lounging across my legs and me furiously flipping through page after page. I finished that book and the fourth in those three days and vowed to stay away from books altogether for a while so I could get some other things done. Like laundry, the dishes, my research for ideas when I’m stumped this NaBloPoMo. Oh, and the occasional meal must be fit in there somehow.

Then, yesterday, I wandered into the used store here in town. I was half browsing for a piece of furniture that I have been searching for and half hoping for a new book to dig into, though I didn’t want to admit that to myself. Then I saw it! Confessions of a Shopaholic, a book I had been meaning to read but never got around to. So I scooped it up for 50 cents. I lingered a bit more in the book area, secretly hoping to stumble upon some other little gem and there it was! Shopaholic Takes Manhattan. For 50 cents. Awesome. Two deliciously wicked chick-lit books for one Canadian dollar.

I read Confessions of a Shopaholic yesterday, in one sitting, and oh, it was glorious. Reading uninterrupted. Coffee mug by my side. A hot bath and candles and a book. I wish I knew more about English and it’s language and grammar rules; I’d be an Literary Editor in a heartbeat. Besides the compulsion to purchase $500 shoes, I felt just like Rebecca Bloomwood. In and out of debt, ignoring the world for just long enough so it will disappear on me, praying that a miracle will fall at my feet and everything will begin to look brighter. Although things are certainly much better now for me, there was a time not that long ago when I just had to shut down. Get out. Go the other way and not look back.

I have hidden the second book, Shopaholic Takes Manhattan, purposely so I don’t read it and it’s right where I can find it. I don’t read in moderation. I don’t shop in moderation. I don’t even eat peanuts in moderation.


2 Responses to “everything in moderation”

  1. The Shopaholic books are a guilty pleasure of mine — I love them! I even got on the wrong c-train because of one of them — and ended up in the northeast when my office was down south … I was THAT into it.

    It’s smart of you to hide it — I know I can’t resist the the allure of a good book either and will end up staying up all night to read it.

    Posted by Martha | November 2, 2007, 9:36 am
  2. I love the Shopoholic series!! And I too read and read and read until I have to not have books around in order to get everything done. I sign up for a whole bunch at a time at the library and when finished I take some time off. Enjoy!

    Posted by BeachMama | November 2, 2007, 1:49 pm

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