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.|
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...
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.