Open letter to my unread library books

Sorry.

I love you. Each one of you.

But. It’s not my fault. Let me explain.

The two hot new bestsellers that I grabbed online — gasping at my good fortune because they were not available in hard copy for 37 weeks because of 189 holds but somehow were AVAILABLE! (in red) in electronic form — are due sooner. No renewals because suddenly there are 13,000 people waiting to read the book that I was just able to check out in 2 seconds. Those books have to be read first, right? (I need to tell Reece and Oprah and Jenna that yes, I happily took their advice and read that great new release. Under the comments of 4.5K other besties.)

Plus, you’re 500 pages. (Okay, 396, but you feel like 500.) Ain’t nobody got time for that. You’ve heavy. Hard to hold at night in bed when I’m tired and hoping for a little escape, not muscle stacking.

And some of you are literary prize-winners, true, but you’re depressing: Bad moms forever fucking up their daughters’ self-esteems, girls getting kidnapped and raped and killed and abused, racism, xenophobia, angry politics, war refugees, death, destruction, doom and other disastrous D words.

Today I just want to giggle and guffaw at shenanigans in places I’ve never been. I want to recapture the feeling of hot, new-person sex and the awkward-cute afterglow. In words I don’t have to look up. (And, like, in 68,000 words. Not 150,000 words.)

So.

Please understand that I see you. I want you. I do love you. I just need your patience. And your three, three-week renewals.

Oh, wait. Hmm. Just found a new Little Free Library in my mom’s neighborhood. I never read that Janet Evanovich. Or that particular Mediterranean diet book. Gotta grab those … plus I still have the books I bought at the Unbound Book Festival …

Um, how long can you stay, again?

Sorry. And thanks.

XO