I love the way books smell, the weight of them in my hands, the sound of turning pages. I love the possibilities inherent in libraries and bookstores.
Books are some of my oldest and dearest friends, my companions in times of loneliness. But more than anything, I love recommending them--finding just the right person for a favorite story, or just the right book for a favorite person, is a great joy.
Once in a while, I get to meet one of my favorite authors and tell them how much their work has meant to me. It's a privilege to share someone else's world for a little while, and look at things through their eyes.
I used to think I'd figured out a way to use the library's automated system to take out more books than I was supposed to, but it turns out they just raised my check out limit without telling me. I guess there are some advantages to bringing borrowed things back on time. Right now my library backpack is full to overflowing, so it's time to curl up and enjoy the temporary stash. I've got history books, psychology, anthropology, true crime, self-help, a couple of Craig Johnson's Longmire novels, the latest Pendergast book from Preston and Child, and a Star Wars tie-in. Among others. I'm not quite at my new, higher checkout limit. But I bet I'm getting close.