Thrift Shops = Mini Vacations

I don't get to my favorite thrift store often enough, but when I do, this little book section becomes a black hole of time. It doesn't look like much, but I have found some pretty nifty reads here.

There used to be two small rooms set back in a hallway, away from all the other stuff. And other people. One held clothes, bedding, purses and shoes (and a couple of bins of pretty grodie-lookin' used makeup and lotions), the other was dedicated to books, magazines, records and tapes.

Then one day I walked in and all the walls were gone. POOF. I was vewy, vewy sad. I spent many hours in the middle of that tiny room, perched on an old stool, drinking in that old book smell, building a stack or two to bring home with me.

I still enjoy going there, the owners are genuinely good people, and the prices are certainly always right. But I still wish I could get lost in the quiet of that little room down the hall where nothing else mattered for just a little while.