This is certainly true for me, if not for most bookish people I know.
It’s funny, whenever I ask for books for my birthday or Christmas people seem kind of let down, like they want me to want something else. I want to reassure anyone who ever plans to give me a gift for any sort of occasion that I’m not asking for books so that you’ll get me something cheap, or something easy. I genuinely probably only want books. Sure, there are other things that I would like, potentially fancier things, but those are the things I enjoy splurging on myself. I always want so many books that after a while I feel guilty buying them. (Though not guilty enough to stop buying them, of course.)
Take this Valentine’s Day, for instance. Instead of buying me something sparkly that I wouldn’t have much of an occasion to wear seeing as I don’t have much reason to leave the house these days (and even less reason to leave the house in anything but jeans), he took me to the bookstore and picked up the tab. We had a lovely day looking at books together, and I went home with seven new friends.
Best. Valentine’s Day. Ever.by