And Eve Was Weak
About a week ago, I did something so shameful, something that made me feel so awful, that I considered not sharing it with you at all. I even left it out of last week’s missive, because I couldn’t bear to type it.
I bought books. Six of them, actually. From Barnes & Noble. Online.
I’ve been doing really, really well with not buying books. Yes, I bought a few while on vacation around Memorial Day, but I wanted to support indie bookstores in the cities I visited. Also, at least I limited myself to just a book or two at each stop——or, rather, my suitcase size limited me.
The only other book I’ve purchased is Taking Root, the Girls Write Now anthology, and that was 1) to support a good cause and 2) to have a copy of something I helped edit. So that shouldn’t really count.
I am but a human. I am not infallible.
Even as I was thinking about doing it, even as I hit checkout, even as I entered all the gift card numbers and clicked submit, I knew what I was doing was wrong. One of the first rules I laid down for myself was that for one year from the start of the blog, I would add only three books to the library, and only if absolutely necessary. I’m supposed to be giving the books I own their time in the sun and saving some money in the process. This is meant to be an exercise in restraint.
Unfortunately, I have no restraint, and I believe that (some) rules were made to be broken.
I’ve been good about adding books that sound interesting to my Goodreads TBR shelf, planning to pick them up at some as-yet-unknown point in the future. I also (finally) got a library card, so I figured I could cheat a little and borrow some of the new ones from there. I could save money and space!
But I felt the pressure building. The world is in shambles; society as we know it feels like it’s crumbling away. Who know what tomorrow will bring? An excellent book review here, a “treat yourself” whisper there, and I was in trouble.
And don’t even get me started on my B&N credit card. For every 2500 points I earn, I get a $25 gift card. I’ve been spending an embarrassing amount of money via online shopping over the last year or two, often indulging in books, alcohol, candles, and assorted craft items from Michaels, all in the name of self care. So when I sat down that fateful evening, I had five and a half gift cards just raring to go. Pair that with a carefully curated to-read list, and it was all over in an instant. It felt like eating a box of mac and cheese after a night out, or an entire bag of chips on a random Tuesday. I needed it, I deserved it, and I succumbed.
The Devil’s lettuce.
I don’t like to deny myself. Maybe because I’m an only child.
And yet, even as I went to “just read more about” the book that started it all (Unmask Alice by Rick Emerson, if you’re curious), even as I then hunted down every book of interest on B&N.com, even as I told myself that maybe I would just save the cart for later (like, say, in another nine or ten months), even as I typed in incredible strings of gift card numbers to bring down my final total, I felt guilt. I felt shame. I felt like Carrie, getting repeatedly smacked in the face with a Bible by Piper Laurie. “And Eve was weak, and Eve was weak, and Eve was weak, say it.”
Eve was weak, but she feels no remorse.
So, now I have six new shiny books to add to the Library. Three nonfiction, three fiction——a perfect balance. I had planned not to spend any “real” money on them, but I used five full $25 gift cards and one with about half the balance left on it, and I still had to cover the last nine dollars and change.
Worth every penny.
