I have an addiction. In fact it started early on as I was growing up. It has continued to grow within me. To make it worse I married someone who has the same addiction.

Books.

My husband and I love books. We love going to used book store and scoring the deals and also books we been looking for. In fact one of our moving trips from one home to another involved a U-haul van that had only books in it.

The shame of it all. But we are shameless. One of our problems is we rarely give the books away. I did purge about 110 books years ago by getting rid of 95% of my James Patterson books to a battered women’s shelter in town. I have donated a bit to the local libraries. I have placed some on my book swap site online.

I alone have nine bookcases. Six of which are large-sized. And while that might seem a lot it does not come close to my husband and his own bookcases. We are addicted. Again we are shameless about it.

It doesn’t help that companies have asked me, and yes I have accepted, to review for them meaning free books for Sharon and hubby.

It’s a disease. It is. I don’t try anymore to explain it to non readers. There is no point. Either you get it or you don’t. Either you love it or you run away from it.

This is my addiction. I might need to purge some more to make room for the others I am more than sure to bring into the house.

But this an addiction that we are glad we have.