'tis too early in the morning for a subject

Sorry that there was nothing more yesterday. I don't know why I'm apologizing, seeing as nobody knows this exists, but the forms must be observed.

I love to read. Possibly it has something to do with being an only child and needing a way to entertain myself, but for as long as I can remember I've loved to reed. Even when most of my room is clean, there will always be a pile of books somewhere. Usually they've escaped from my bookcase, or my other bookcase, or my closet, or the giant bookcase downstairs. Sometimes I've picked them up from the used bookstore nearby and forgotten to put them away.

I don't just love reading, I love books. I love the slightly musty scent, the smooth cover and slightly rough pages, the black smudge on the inside of my thumb from the ink rubbing off a bit. I love bookstores where you can get lost amongst the shelves, and given the choice, I'd rather be in a comfortable chair with a good book than almost anywhere.

This fascinating discussion was prompted by the the large Sherlock Holmes book balanced on my knee, which contains every Holmes story Doyle ever wrote and is probably my favorite thing on the planet right now. I just had to extol its virtues, which are the virtues of books in general, plus the fact that its big and heavy and wonderful.

~Energetic, Kit