i really might have a problem

I failed today...I fed my book addiction. I literally have a difficult time walking out of a bookstore without a book in hand (that I have paid for).

This book buying addiction wouldn't be such a problem if it weren't for three things: 1) I don't have the salary for this. 2) I don't have the time for this. 3) I already have several books I own but have not read.

What's even worse about today's purchase is that I am already in the middle of six books that I read consistently. (4 for work, 2 for pleasure.) And if you count books that I've started within the past year, but do not read consistently, the count is up to 15. ... FIFTEEN! Clearly I do not need to be buying books.

But here's the thing. I finished Chuck Klosterman's book Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs a few weeks ago...and I miss him. I realize that this is probably unhealthy, and that I don't actually know him, and that reading his book is NOT the same as talking to a real person. But I can't help it. What makes this longing for a good Klosterman read even more significant is the detail of which pleasure book I'm interrupting for him: U2 by U2.

I have a serious U2 obsession. I've had dreams about them. I've already finished one biography and am on the aforementioned second. I quote them incessantly. I've watched two dvds of them. I read articles about them. I'm currently saving for a trip to see them this summer. I own every single one of their albums. (Some illegally, but the fact that I'm consistently buying each one so that I have actually paid and contributed to their monetary welfare shows the depth of the obsession, I think.) I had a 2 hour conversation about them on the way to Chattanooga once. And if you summed up the hours of conversation I've had not all at once...on second thought, I don't think I want to know. Suffice it to say that the fact that I'm putting their almost autobiography on hold for Chuck...well, it's a big deal.

But I couldn't stop myself! The day I finished Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs, I had to stop myself from re-reading it almost immediately. I let a friend borrow it, and I don't think I would have been able to hold out much longer if I hadn't. And it's not like his books are incredibly profound. They're just very, very funny. I feel like I'm participating in a conversation (which could have as much to do with how I read as with how he writes). We're just a great duo, author-Chuck and reader-me. And like a child with his worn out blankie (or a friend with her imbecile ex), I just didn't want to let go.

So I haven't. And the book buying addiction lives another day.

(On a happier note, I am one book closer to having a library like Belle, and that's ALWAYS a good thing.)