DogEared | Blind Date 29 of 31

Date 29

I needed a break.

Between sci-fi conventions, all-you-can-eat buffets, and long walks on the beach, I quickly discovered I was spending more time focused on my dating life than on my actual living life-- and that's not even considering the ghost.

I was worrying more about what other people thought about me than what I wanted to think about for myself. So, when I woke up on the morning of July 29th, I promised myself it would be an all-Suzi day, and the dating world would be there when I returned tomorrow.

So, after I woke up without an alarm at the glorious hour of 10:00am, I took my time rolling out of bed. With coffee brewing, I idled at my kitchen counter, flipping through the month-old Penny Saver while I munched on an apple danish. Neither the Help Wanted section nor the Personal Ads had any pull on me, especially since none of them magically changed in the last twenty-eight days. Tossing it aside, I filled a mug with coffee before strolling into my small, and rather disheveled, living room.

The benefit of being unemployed and living on your own is that no one else can tell you how to decorate. With a wall of built-in bookcase brimming at near capacity, there was no one to tell me to stop buying books either. I ran a hand over their bindings, observing their different sizes, fonts, and colors.

Every book had a place because each one belonged. The only restriction was money, and though I currently had a severe lack of income, I made a point of allotting just enough to satisfy the need to add to my collection.

Today was one of those days.

Once I finally deigned to shower and get dressed, tossing a flannel shirt over a white tank and jeans, I took my time making my way to my favorite independent bookstore in Los Angeles, Book Soup.

There was something about physical books that had me avoiding the purchase of an eReader for some, regardless of how often Trystan tells me it would save me time, space and money. But I needed to hold a book to appreciate it- I needed to smell its ink and feel its pages. Books were to be cherished and revered like priceless relics, and treated just the same. No bent corners or torn dust jackets allowed- bookmarks and book sleeves were a requirement should anyone consider wanting to borrow from my personal collection. Reading to me was an experience more than the story an author wanted to tell. A trip to the bookstore should be such an adventure.

A smile formed upon my lips the moment I walked through Book Soup's main entrance. My senses were immediately bombarded with the familiar sights and smells of literature just waiting to be perused. Though I knew exactly where I was going, I took my time getting there as as I wove through the rows of shelving.

The Mystery section was like a second home. I could browse titles, new and old, from the greats like Nora Roberts, James Patterson, and David Baldacci. Even John Grisham and Dean Koontz occasionally made an appearance. As it was, there was a new release from Daniel Silva that had grasped my attention weeks ago, but with all of my time dedicated to these damn dates, making a point to purchase it was furthest from my mind.

Until now.

Book Soup was very good at keeping their shelves in alphabetical order by author, so I had to crouch down to search through the S section. So distracted was I by my mission that I didn't realize is had company until they spoke.

"I hear Henry Scott's Revenge is really good."

Startled, I leaned back on my heels to look up at the source, more so to confirm they were talking to me.
But damn, was I glad I did.