They say I’m an addict. But am I? Really? [cue in Not An Addict by K’s Choice] I’d rather be called a book lover – not an addict — because clearly, I love reading.
You see, I own around 700+ paperbacks/softcover/hardcover books and more than a thousand e-books in my hard drive. I have to admit [tongue-in-cheek) that almost 80% of them are romantic fiction.
Unlike some I know who are clearly posers and have acquired tons of books that they only read about 20% of them … I’ve all read mine (with the exception of those in my TBR folder, which is currently brimming with A LOT of e-books).
What can I say? I READ WHEN I AM BORED.
Continue reading Reading As Therapy
I’m not talking about horders. I’ve seen a couple of those biohazardous folks on the telly recently that makes me cringe and pity them at the same time. Somehow I accept the fact that they cannot help themselves and they need psychological – if not medical – help.
Nope, I am not talking about them. I’m talking about something along the lines of “Till death do us part.”
I’ve been known to BS a lot on lovey-dovey stuff for eons now. Friends and acquaintances know about my predilection and notoriety regarding this matter. Quite frankly, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop. As long as cheesy people exist, so as my quirked brow, smirk and razor-sharp tongue.
So, what am I rambling about?
I just remembered stumbling upon a story eons ago of how a twice rejected woman at the altar can finally find happiness with someone who eventually treated her like a treasure instead of trash like her former beaus (Mr. A and Mr. B). Good riddance, if I might say so. Of course, there might be some hidden story behind the story that wouldn’t make it in the newsfeed, but the fact that it happened was something inspiring and makes thirty-something and forty-something singletons all over the world rejoice.
Continue reading Another Man’s Treasure