Wednesday, February 20, 2013

Friends of the Library Sales Are Designed to Bankrupt Me.

Some people have booze, smoking, or meth problems.  I have a Friends of the Library booksale problem.

I try to join every FotL organization in my area, as well as ones from places farther afield that hold special significance in my life.  I can't always make it to every meeting in every town, but I do my best to support special events and send in my dues with a little extra.  Libraries are important to me, and I like to give back to them in a form other than fine payment (which, yes, I am skilled at earning).

FotL booksales are my favorite events to attend.  I don't mean "events related to libraries"; I mean out of all life events in general.  I love browsing through the tables and cases, seeing which books have been loved by my neighbors, gathering ideas for which topics I need to investigate more.  I love buying new canvas tote bags with library logos on the sides.  I love seeing the biddies with their plastic-wrapped cookies, which I can never eat but still love to covet.  I even love scorning the resellers and the obnoxious little ka-CHING! sounds from their scanning devices; it's all part of the experience.  Library booksales are magical things.

The problem is that this always happens:

Cat for scale.
Whoops.

This was my haul from the opening morning of the Friends sale this past weekend at Hall Memorial Library in Ellington, Connecticut.  I went there with a budget of $8.  Ahahaha, no, that never works out for me.  I left with four literally-bursting-at-the-seams tote bags.  I bought books for myself, books for my family, books for my friends, books for unknown recipients...you get the idea.  This is what always happens to me at Friends sales.  I basically buy everything in sight because I lose all sense of sanity and composure upon seeing the shiny tables.

So that was last Friday morning.  Then Saturday morning happened, and I resolved to not go back for Day 2.  Annnnnnnd...

LOL budgeting.
...nope.  I found myself right back in the center of Ellington, stocking up once more, even though I swore all along the drive there that I was only looking for Clive Cussler books for my father.  (Yes, Clive Cussler!  That's a good excuse!  It's for someone else!)

Do I have space to store these books?  No.  Will I read even half of them by the time the next sale comes around?  No.  Does spending a ton of money on books seem like a great idea when underemployed?  No.  Will I learn?  Absolutely not.

For the hardcore FotL sale-addicts among us, reason means nothing.  We are above it.  All we know is that books are our friends, and $8-a-bag is a remarkable bargain, especially when you are a seasoned bag-packer like myself.  And we also know that as long as Friends continue to tease us with their goods, we will continue to bankrupt ourselves, happily.

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