Bookstore Confessional

I cancelled my cable TV. It occurred to me a few weeks ago that I was spending hours zoning out to shows I was only vaguely interested in while summer snuck by. I blamed it on my job. Conflict on the job has made my life increasingly unpleasant. I told myself that closing my blinds to gorgeous summer evenings and watching reruns of Charmed was a way of recharging my battered psyche. I talk a lot of crap - even to myself.

So my cable was disconnected and my internet was accidently disconnected in the process. I was, as it turned out, disconnected from the world. I wasn't quite sure what to do with myself. I went to Target Friday night to find a movie for under $10. I ended up with Practical Magic. Apparently I like the modern-witches-grow-herb-gardens-and-kick-boys-butts storylines.

Three months of being bummed can make your brain a bit dull, so when I decided to go to the bookstore Saturday night, it was to find the printed version of Practical Magic. I did at least make a show of it and wander around the store first. Has anyone else noticed the Oprah Effect on modern literature? I'm a little bored of stories of oppression and triumph. Call me jaded. On my third lap around the store, I decided that the store designer should be congratulated for putting the romance section beside the mystery section. Though it would be bad for sales if any of the girls in the romance section actually looked up to notice the cute boys in the mystery section. Did you know that bookstores now come with entire aisles on dating? On this point too, I was a little judgmental. You can't learn about dating from a book, I thought. And then I realized I was standing alone in a bookstore at 9 o'clock on a Saturday night. So I checked out the titles. Yeelch. How to Meet the Man of Your Dreams and Marry in Less Than a Year. [No doubt that volume two will feature a chapter on quickie divorces.] Someone walked by and I was embarrassed to be standing in front of the dating books. [I get equally as embarrassed when found standing in front of dieting books.] I peered around the corner and the only other person in my vicinity was a guy reading a book about organic tomato growing. I guess we all have our cross to bare.

Davy

Because I just now realized that he has given me permission...

I present: Dave the Tomato Eater.

[Though this evening he was very much Dave the Wine Drinker. Or, as I like to call him, Dave the Guy Who Came to Teri's Birthday Party and Drank All of Her Wine.]

[And, yes, I do actually live in a world where people drink red wine and then roll up their freshly pressed sleeves to give the sign of the devil.]