I just found out that a huge (I'm talking huge) used bookstore near me is closing. Naturally I'm in mourning, but it's even more depressing as this is the used bookstore where I used to kill a lot of lunch breaks. It's just down the road from The Old Job, and when I was having a rough day (which was admittedly quite often), I'd go to the store, and just browse. Look at the rows upon rows of historical romance (completely disorganized I might add) and try to forget about the crazy person (people) who would argue with me over the library's "irrational" policies. You know, our restriction on Internet time and paying your overdue fines. We're evil that way. Even better, there's a Taco Bell near by - so I'd get my junk-food raccoon meat craving satisfied, then spend time at the bookstore. The only thing that would have been more perfect is if there was a place for me to get a decent piece of cheesecake next door.
It's also the bookstore where I went on my last serious Harlequin buying bender.
And they're closing. The culprit? Rising rent. They apparently make a killing with their Internet sales, and they would carry amazing collectibles there (signed John Steinbecks people). Fun to drool over, but out of my price range. Still, rising rent is rising rent - and it's really ridiculous here in Southern California.
The irony here is that I find out they're closing the morning after I tell The Boyfriend, "I really need to lay off the book buying for a long while." I find out they're going out of business right before I hit RWA in Dallas, where I'm sure to walk away with more than just a few books. Damn. I just can't do it.
But maybe I can go and "look." Just see what's left. And really put myself on a strict budget. Crap, the older I get the more like Daffy Duck I become. Just substitute "gold" or "rich" for "books" and that's pretty much me.