We Thought You Would Be Prettier by Notaro Laurie

Author:Notaro, Laurie [Notaro, Laurie]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fiction, Humor, Biography, Women, 20th Century, Humorists; American, Humorists; American - 20th Century, Notaro; Laurie
ISBN: 9780812969016
Google: MgYxZokJa7oC
Amazon: B000FCK2Y2
Publisher: Villard
Published: 2005-04-19T05:00:00+00:00

But It Won’t Fit Up My Nose

My husband looked at me like I had a kilo of cocaine in my hand instead of a bag from a bookstore.

“Don’t you dare bring that thing in this house,” he said, blocking the front door so I couldn’t get in. “We simply cannot go on living like this! You know the rules!”

Indeed I did.

“It’s only one. It’s just one little book,” I coaxed, as he huffed, dropped his arm, and permitted me inside.

Unfortunately, I married a book guy. My ideal plan was to marry a tool guy, not only so that sticky windows and leaky faucets would be remedied without paying for a house call, but that I might also get a redwood deck out of the deal. However, the tool guy I could have picked up an option on smelled a lot like Sears, and when the book guy came along, he smelled like shaving cream and Downy. Thus, not only did we get married, but two book collections collided and, as a result, we were book bound. I shoved books in drawers, in the china cupboard, in the pantry, and, honestly, if you think John Nash was impressive, you should take a peek at the mathematically impossible stacking configurations I executed in order to get the most space out of our bookshelves. Oriental rugs have never been woven with such complexities.

As time passed, our book collection took on the proportions of free-range feral cats that multiply into six more as soon as two of them touch each other. It came down to this: Either hire a Sherpa to help us navigate around the tall towers of books in our house, dump some of the books, or dump the marriage (I had, admittedly, started rethinking the tool-guy thing anyway when new blinds needed to be installed and flushing the toilet evoked a sound in our pipes very similar to a choir of Benedictine monks).

In order to try and solve the problem, each of us went through our respective libraries and culled every book we believed we could part with, hauled them all to a used-book store, where we traded them for store credit, and each returned with a box of new books.

Clearly, we needed a plan, preferably an effective one, because our current plan was the equivalent of trying to lose weight by eating a package of reduced-fat Oreos at every meal.

“I say we make a book box,” my husband, the book guy, said, “and the rule is that if you don’t absolutely love a book after you’ve read it, you have to put it in the box and when it’s full we’ll donate it to charity.”

“Perfect! And how about,” I said as my big fat idea met my big fat mouth, “every time we get a new book, we have to give one away?”

And so the Rules were born, and I thought it was a fabulous idea until the day came when my giveaway stash—which included all of the books I

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