I'm so happy.
I'm in a new bookstore out of town because a couple of my students are in a competition this weekend. (They won first place. I'd like to think they would have won first place even if there had been other competitors in their division.)
It's a Borders, and the Borders takes up the WHOLE building. It's larger than most Borders, but it's not two-story. It's long. And it's not just long. It's crowded long.
Like, if you stand in the middle of the store, drowning in books could be a definitely possibility.
In fact, I decided today how I wanted to die. I want to die in the middle of a Borders, in old age and preferably after I've written 100 books. I want to die flat in the middle of a BIG Borders under a pile of a thousand books.
The aisles are so crowded you can barely get around, and the book cases go so high you need a foot stool. I made the rounds three times before I could concentrate enough to even start thinking about which books were going to be my friends today.
(Dickens' Bleak House and the writing book I've never read before.)
I was so giddy, I noticed I was grinning. And by the third lap I had tears in my eyes.
I'm sure you think I'm kidding or exaggerating.
Or maybe you understand.
Is there a seven-story bookstore anywhere? Where's the biggest bookstore in the whole world? I've decided: that's where I want to go on vacation next summer.