Some women go crazy for shoes, some for handbags. And whilst I have a fair share of both, its books I can’t resist when I’m out shopping. And notebooks. And stationery. Of any kind really.
My tbr pile is reaching dangerous, skyscraper proportions, I’ve started keeping books in different cupboards in the house as there are too many to store in just one place and I’ve even siphoned some off to store in my desk at work.
So, after an expensive Christmas where I slithered into the dodgy depths of overdraft, I swore that January would be a book buying free month. I would curb my impulses and keep my hands firmly in my pockets. I would refuse to buy any more books until my stash is somewhat diminished.
So far this month I’ve done really well. I’ve averted my eyes in the supermarket and refused to go anywhere near the deadly shops of sin. But on Saturday I needed to transfer some money and what did I do? Yes, you guessed it I bought not one but two books. In fairness they are not for me, they are presents for other people and what nicer things to receive as presents I ask you?
But all the same, it proves one thing. I am addicted.
What are you addicted to?
