Clickity, click, click

During my younger odd years, I was known to be a Nancy Drew addict, and have read mostly all the romance yuck novel, including of that Austen's, Brontë's, Mills & Boon, et al (but no Bram's nor Rice). Mom was always hot on my trail because I would read these books, instead of my school books (have I mentioned before that I really don't have any interest in studies). I would not put down the more interesting book that I am reading until I am done. The only time that this ugly addiction crumbled upon me, is when the computer age started and it ruined my whole entire being. I became a net bug. I was just there. Leaving trails everywhere. The net informations that I get, gives me that little exciting jolt to braniac me. But it doesn't complete me.
Thank God for Barnes and Noble. I was like a kid in play land (Don't like libraries. It reminds me of being in college again, hushed by those ugly thick eyeglass rimmed librarian and the affluent medical students playing know it all for their revalidas). I used up all the reasons in the world to be at Barnes & Noble...like the book about---- bam! I'm there. Or the this series of books by----Ooopss I was just so there. Even the series of books that petrifies me about "rapture," 12 books purchased, read it in one week, What the hey, I like it there. Depression and some suicidal ideation, brings me to another level that I've got to read something in B&N, 2 caramel frap venti, 1 brain freeze moment, 1500 calories something later, I am still alive, books to read: so very priceless.
So last night, when we got to bed, I opened my mini note, bookmarked under Pride and Prejudice, hubby hissed about "don't wanna hear that click, click, click again," I giggled and responded, "you choose: mouse or Edward Cullen!?" He lifted his head & snoop, and tsked "Ga! Mr Darcy!"