Clearly A Loss Of Control

Yesterday I went to my local public library to return two books.  My plan was to enter the building no further than the book return bin and then leave as quickly as possible.  Since I know the way to that bin I had even taken the liberty of placing a blind fold over my eyes to avoid distraction.  Yes, people might have stared but I deemed that a small price to pay for the quick, book less exit.
I'm certain you know the rest of this story without my having to tell it but tell it I shall. 
I heard the return books hit the bottom of the bin.  That sound was more than I could bear.  It echoed not only in my imagination but in my soul.  My spirit turned as dark as I imagined the bottom of that bin to be.  I tore off the blind fold and as always succumbed to the library's siren call.  I entered its sacred space despite the fact that I already had four unread books at home.
Yesterday I returned two and left with another four.  Once home I reverently placed my new literary wonders in the place I reserve for my library books.  I marveled at the card cataloguing labels on the spines of my new additions.
Loving library books is, I imagine, a little like fostering rescued dogs and cats.  You know you have to give them up one day and you know you will feel sad but, wow, what a joy to have them in your home at least for a little while.
There's also a lot of pressure in loving library books.  They must be read before that final renewal period ends.
Dogs, cats, and library books.  All precious and just here for a little while.  But, then, I guess all of us are just here for a little while.
So I shall begin once again reading my library book.  I'm confident I will finish this one and cognizant I will never finish all of the books on my 'to read' list.
Life goes on.