“Barnes & Noble is having a 40% off sale,” Tiff told us the other day. For once, Kris didn’t object to a trip to the bookstore.
I wandered around looking for great deals. I picked up a book on writing, and a book on the Hindenburg. I didn’t find as much as I’d hoped. Then Kris came up to me — her basket full of stocking stuffers and other little gifts — and said, “Did you see they have moleskines on sale?”
Well. I put my books back on the shelf and instead loaded my basket with $150 worth of my favorite notebook. (Which only cost me $90!) When we got home, I made a pile of my current notebook collection, a collection that is a sad reflection on the nature of one of my obsessions:
This is my notebook collection. (The notebooks I purchased the other night have big red dots on them.) Note that I don’t collect these the way one would collect stamps or coins or little ceramic cows. I collect these the way one would collect bags or buckets or old tools. I collect them because somewhere in the back of my mind, I believe these will be useful some day. Also note that nearly all of these are unused. And that this doesn’t include all of the notepads and index cards and reams of paper that I have stacked in various drawers and closets.
I admit that it’s probably just another irrational compulsion, but I don’t care. I now have seventeen moleskines and I want more!
(Further note: I am very particular about lined notebooks and journals. Most ruled paper drives me nuts. Most of it has these widely-spaced lines that are useless except for junior high school girls (with their bold, loopy handwriting). I like my journals narrow-ruled, and the narrower the better. That’s one reason I love moleskines.)