Wednesday, June 24, 2015

Whenever I'm depressed or overwhelmed by financial frustration; I go to the library.
I run my fingers over the spines of the books.  I fill my arms with books on whatever strikes my fancy.  Often YA fantasy for an escapist read; but I'm also a fan of nonfiction.  (My daughter calls these "end of the world books")  I read classics.  (I should read more classics than I do...)  I look for something decadent, and something weighty to balance things out.  I seek out well loved authors and unknowns.  I choose them based on cover or because they've been on my To Be Read list or because I recognize the author.  I snag books with interesting titles.
When I have a comforting load, I skim through movies.
I don't restrict myself.  I choose something I've seen before...a lighthearted, feel good movie like Big or Fools Rush In.  Or a feel good tearjerker like Titanic or just a plain old tearjerker like "My Sister's Keeper".  Or something tense.  Or something I haven't seen before.
The options are endless.

I come home, my soul somewhat soothed.  And then I curl up surrounded by words and stories, snuggle my dog and/or the kids and I read.

And feel insanely rich.

I have an ereader.  But as nice as it is to bring a library with me everywhere I go, nothing seems to compare to visiting the library and bringing a small selection home.