Six Sad Things I Hate to Hear About Your Books

Or possibly just six reasons I’m glad you can’t see me from your end of the telephone conversation.

1. We had a sale, and these are the leftovers. (I like leftovers, frankly.  But someone else’s leftovers? The leftover cheese sandwich I like is the one with my own toothprints in it.)

2. We had a couple of book dealers come in and buy what they wanted first. (I see: “We thought it was only fair to let these three bears have some of the porridge, but you can take what they leave.”)

3. We had a little bit of a flood in the basement and…. (Stop right there, please. You have raised a point of semantics. How little can something be and still be a flood?)

4. We packed up all these cookbooks after the pressure cooker exploded and…. (Please don’t even take the tape off the box. No, no, really: put those back in the basement and let them age another hundred years.)

5. The covers have all fallen off, but the pages are still readable. (So keep ‘em and read ‘em.)

6. I pulled these all out of the dumpster behind our school; I knew you wouldn’t want them to go to waste. (You’re right, of course. Next time your school throws away storage space, could you pick me up some of that, too.)

ONE SAD THING I WOULDN’T MIND HEARING ABOUT THE BOOKS

1. Grandpa took really good care of his books, but then some guy named Ernest Hemingway scribbled in all the margins.

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