Folks, book addicts like me and thrift stores just don't mix well. I mean, they do, but only in the same way that a heroin addict and a drug dealer do. Technically both are getting what they want, until the addict runs out of cash and he still needs a fix. Thankfully for the most part I've been able to keep myself strong whilst sorting through various books and things that come through.
But what should happen today on my shift when I help someone out? An entire cardboard box filled with classically written volumes on the multiple facets of the American West. Sixteen books in total, each around 200 pages long, filled with delightful historical pictures and facts with a lyrical prose that makes it feel like a joy to read instead of a chore. Biting my lip to keep from salivating I flicked through the pages, my pulse pounding as I poured over what I realized were veritable treasure troves of knowledge which had heretofore eluded me. Issues which I had seen only barely glossed over in magazines or online articles were beautifully fleshed out here, going on in a level of depth that tickled me to my core.
But alas, I hath not the money to afford them! Even though they are dirt cheap and I can get a discount, I don't have the funds to get even three of them. Such is the curse of fools such as I! Doomed to see such miracles of history and literature dance before me and raise their metaphorical skirts at me, knowing that I cannot partake! What sin have I committed to see such gems slip from my fingers at this time? Also worth mentioning is that they are within that amazing realm of books printed in the 70's, making them new enough that copyrights still apply, but old enough that nobody sells them anymore.
Maybe I'll get lucky and nobody will pay any attention to them until I get my next paycheck. I haven't felt this desperate for many moons. I'm even considering borrowing money, something I haven't done in almost a decade. Pray for me dear friends! I'll either sell a few teeth for a few quick bucks or spend the next few nights weeping into my pillow.