Little Shop Of Books

I have done what I should not do. I am working parttime at a bookstore. Bookstores fit the same category as fabric shops and pet stores. All three suck money out of my wallet. But it's all good because I'm part of the growing economy. The little shop of books is called Rebounds. It opened a few months ago and is briskly building its inventory of used books and teacher supplies. I worked four hours and already discovered things I didn't know about myself: I need the ABC Song, otherwise V would never get shelved before W; romance novels scare me as the covers hint at lots of unintended babies; and reading glasses are my best friend as even squinting won't tell me if a book's original fine print price is $19.99, $9.99 or $8.99. Also, Rebounds builds character. I watched Anne LaMott's Bird by Bird fly out the door and barely whimpered. That book is on the list of ones I'd like to read again. Other books yoo-hoo at me, most loudly one from Anne Shreve that I haven't read. Also Rebound has some kid books I'd like to revisit including some by Anne Martin and Gary Paulson. One kid book claims to explain why puppies eat slippers. Do puppies need a reason? Others offer homework help. Thank goodness Daisy and Birdie's homework is beyond any attempt on my part to help. The book I hope to find buried in Rebound's stacks is My Box and String. It was the first book I ever read by myself, in first grade, in New Jersey. My copy died a mysterious death. I think mom tired of hearing "With my box and string, I can do anything." I feel the same way about 101 Dalmatians. It is a great book, but please, don't get Daisy or Birdie started on it. I've heard it enough.