Book Thieves

As I was power walking my way to the 5 kilometer mark today, I day dreamed about the rest of the day. A list of chores and my new book. My new book. Sitting on the corner of the bed, just waiting for me to open the cover and stretch the binding. It is the latest in the series and I could just imagine dropping back into the life of a really bad bonds bailswoman and all her antics. Thinking about this book took me to my targeted time without even thinking about how many minutes I had left to walk or would I make it to my kilometer goal.

I dropped Sparky off at the train station early this morning, grocery shopped and picked up new cat litter. I was the first in the door at the gym and spent a good three hours torturing myself there. I find it funny that I have to have limbs that feel like jelly to eventually feel like steel. I am really opposed to the “Make It Burn” philosophy of the work out. I’m doing it, isn’t that punishment enough? Why does it have to hurt too? (See, my one-track mind)

Anyway, I got home, put the groceries away, cleaned up a bit and made my lunch. I did everything I needed to do before finding my book, delaying gratification to make it that much better. I could read a chapter or two guilt-free. I looked on the corner of the bed. The book pile was still there, but my new book was not. There was the book I thought I would read next and two books I had already finished, but my new book was gone.

I looked under the bed. Not there. I looked under the sheets and pillows. Not there, either. That’s when it hit me.

Rewind to 6 am.

Alarm goes off. Sparky gets up to shower and shave. As he dresses I slowly open my eyes and snuggle the cat. I get up at precisely 10 minutes before we need to leave for the train station. I dress, brush my teeth and am ready to head out.

Sparky says a lot of things in this time but one comment stands out now

“While you were sleeping, I packed my bag.”

Fast forward to present

Phone in hand, Sparky on the line

“Do you know where the Janet Evanovich is?” she says accusingly.

“Uh… in my bag?” he says wondering if he should have admitted guilt.

“You stole my book while I was sleeping, you thief!”

“I stole nothing. I have a long train ride. I needed something to read.”

I won’t go into how the rest of that conversation went for fear of incriminating myself. Let’s just say that after I make the bed and do all the laundry today, I will have found some vengeance and it might include his side of the bed and kitty litter and will have no idea how it got there.

Those darn cats, I’m telling you…


4 thoughts on “Book Thieves

  1. You sayed deelaying the gratification makes it that uch better, That book should be like Nirvana by the time he gets back.

  2. Sparkyyy! You cannot steal a woman’s book! You cannot! In the world of reading as gratification, you must understand, certain things are off limits, and books that have not been read yet and are in the queue are high up on that list. Put the book down, back away slowly, and you may yet survive. Dude, that was seriously the wrong thing to take.

    Jen, I feel your pain. M takes all the good books all the time too.

  3. I’d have beaten him like a redheaded stepchild for taking that book. You don’t steal a woman’s Stephanie Plum and get away with it!

    I loved that book. I love that whole series. I suck ’em down like ice water on a scorching day.

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