When we first moved in together, we lived in a no bedroom apartment. Cramped for space and deeply in love, I donated over half of my book collection to my childhood library. This was a massive undertaking. There went my Keats..there went Shelley. I drove off not looking in the mirror, not looking back.
Now that we're settled in a larger space, I'm rebuilding my poor collection. This time, I would like to make it better, finer. I'd like to think I got rid of the things I didn't really love (an some things that I truly loved) to make room for books that really mean something to me.
So all of that leads me to this point:
FOR GOD'S SAKE PLEASE LET MY KEATS BIO by AILEEN WARD COME IN THE MAIL!
I'm beyond anxious for it, my heart racing a little when I pull up to the mailbox. I received a gorgeous edition of Essays of Elia by Charles Lamb but mainly I want my Keats Biography.
I know the postal service is busy but I'm very impatient.
The other night I started reading Keats poems to my love, he took it all in stride and asked me what did I get drunk on? Mouth wash?