Last Wednesday, after spending most of the afternoon at IKEA in Burbank, and then wiping out two gift cards and paying some of my own cash at Barnes & Noble for 7 books and a magazine ("The Normal School," the most unique literary magazine I've seen in years), we stopped at a $1-only used bookstore near Fuddrucker's, where we were going to eat.
I ended up paying $9.88 there, for such as books as "The Brethren" (about the Supreme Court from the 1969-1975 terms), volume 2 of Richard Nixon's memoirs (The White House years), and "On the Road with Charles Kuralt." But those, even though they are always important because they are books, weren't even remotely important compared to what happened.
Meridith came up to me as I was on the right side of the store, looking at those shelves, and told me there had been a woman, about my age, at the counter, though she had only seen the back of her. The woman had brought books up to the counter and the guy ringing it all up said, "Only five?" The woman replied, "Well, I bought 12 last week."
Damn it damn it damn it damn it damn it damn it damn it!!!
If Meridith had seen more of her and could recognize her, I would have asked her to follow her, bring her back, and I would have seriously proposed marriage right then and there.
That's why, on all my profiles on a few dating websites I signed up for (the most convenient being OkCupid, because it's free), I added this: "You must love books, or be willing to love books."