A year-long spending moratorium
While walking the dog last weekend, Kim noted that I’ve been getting a lot of packages in the mail lately. “What’s up with that?” she asked.
I sighed.
“Remember how we shared that bottle of champagne on New Year’s Eve?” I said. “Well, that got me buzzed enough that I sat down at my computer and ordered a bunch of used books. Mystery novels and manga. So, those are starting to filter in.” That’s right. I got drunk on New Year’s Eve (because I no longer drink regularly, I’ve become a lightweight) and ordered old John le Carré paperbacks and Lone Wolf and Cub compilations from ABE Books. I lead an exciting life, my friends.
“Don’t you have enough books?” Kim asked.
“Honestly, I do,” I said. “And I haven’t read half of them. I haven’t watched half of the movies I’ve purchased. I haven’t read half of my graphic novels.”
“You only wear about half of the clothes in your closet,” Kim added. We stopped to let the dog dig in the ditch. Tally was certain she smelled a rodent and was desperate to find it.
“Right,” I said. “I know I’m not the only one who does this, but that doesn’t mean I like it. I feel as if I ought to take a break from buying new stuff and just work through the books and movies and clothes I already own.”
“I feel as if you ought to do that too,” Kim said, laughing. Then Tahlequah saw a deer in the neighbor’s field, and our conversation was forgotten in the ensuing excitement. Bark bark bark! Deers are evil.