Truth be told, sixteen years ago I “broke up with” my husband (who wasn’t my husband, yet) because he didn’t read books. You all get me, right?
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TOTALLY reasonable.
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But when he agreed to the “Bridget Hoida” book of the week club, I took him back (lucky for him. Also agreed).
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But we’ve always struggled with books. ALWAYS. For example, he doesn’t like “books in public.” I know. I know. Shut the Front Door. Twice. But that’s just how he “is”. And, not, let me clarify, READING books in public. Rather, he objects to “visualizing” books in public. If I may, a semi-direct quote to clear things up: “Books are for reading. They are not, art. Nor are they decoration or vases or knickknacks or photographs or any such stuff.” So clearly we have MARITAL PROBLEMS.
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I mean they always say every couple has the “same argument” over and over but in different manifestations.
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BOOKS are our argument.
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Blue Books
But when we moved into the “new house” there was lots and lots of room. So much room, in fact, that I lost my small dog on several occasions. However, I still maintain that books should be seen AND heard… so I’ve been slipping them in, in obvious places: the fireplace (not “on”, of course that would be horrific), next to the vacuum cleaner, in various “nooks” and “entryways, ” the bathtub… but they always get politely returned to my office. So we “went round.” And it was decided (probably informed by some Restoration Hardware Catalogue –and yes, I did just spell “catalogue” with a “u”) that blue books, because they “matched the walls” would be okay.
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In the front room.
Behind the glass.
Where the wedding china lives.
It was a comp-row-mise.
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But OMG! “You Guys” as my pal Thaddeus Gunn would say… YOU. GUYS. You will never believe this: ALL OF THE BEST BOOKS ARE BLUE!
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Seriously.
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Under those nasty paper jackets… the books are blue. Which means “win”. Which means books. Which means visible books. Which means words. And worlds. And wow.
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P.S. Don’t worry. The China will be overrun…there are SO MANY blue books!
