Books Are Like the American Flag?

My pernicious pathology

I don’t travel much anymore but back when I was younger I traveled a lot. Whenever I arrived in a new city or town one of the first things I would do was check out the local independent bookstores. I couldn’t help it. I’m a book freak.

Once, I visited a city that had an independent bookstore that had a stellar reputation for its extensive inventory. I had heard about this bookstore and I had read about it and I couldn’t wait to visit it.

But once inside this bookstore I was overcome with horrible vibes. It was a huge store but I didn’t get very far into it when I was forced to stop. Looking around I saw that everything was in utter disarray. Books were stuffed sideways atop books that were upright on the shelves. But even worse than that, everywhere I looked there were piles of books on the floor!

On the floor!

And the floors were filthy, covered with dust and dirt and mud and everything else tracked in by customers. It looked like the floors had not been swept or mopped in years. How could they be? They were covered with stacks of books.

I looked at the employee sitting at the cash register. He was reading a book while eating Cheetos. If you have ever bought a used book and, once home, you opened that book only to find orange smudges on all the pages then you would surely agree with me that eating Cheetos while reading a book should be against the law.

I felt knots growing in my stomach. Negative tingles were racing throughout my body. I began feeling nauseous and light-headed. I felt I was about to have an apoplectic seizure. I abruptly turned around and left the bookstore. Outside, I took several deep breaths and tried to regain my composure.

It was blatantly obvious that the owners of that bookstore had absolutely no respect for books whatsoever!

You see, I am one of those weirdos who believe that books should be treated with respect. They should be given the same respect we are taught to give to the American flag. They should never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever touch the ground!

We don’t pile American flags on the ground. That’s what flagpoles are for. And books are what bookshelves are for. Piling books on the floor, allowing them to come into contact with the ground is pure sacrilege. It is treasonous and profoundly disrespectful.

I’ll bet you never heard anyone say that before. Actually, I’m not sure there is anyone who believes that. I may be the only one.

Over the years several people who know me have suggested that I seek professional help. “It’s just books,” they would say. “You realize that you’re being disgustingly anal retentive, don’t you?” they would add.

But it’s true. I go into deep fits of anxiety whenever I see books on the floor or touching the ground in any way. My body reacts negatively and my mind goes into freak out mode.

I figured that one way to avoid these fits is to have someone else go into a bookstore before I do to make sure there are no books on the floor before I enter. But I’ve never found anyone who is willing to do that for me. They just look at me like I just escaped from my padded cell at the local mental institution.

I have searched high and low for a support group for people who freak out when they see a book on the floor but I have not found one anywhere. Am I really the only human who suffers from this malady?

Must I suffer from this disorder for the rest of my life? Is there any help for me? Is there any hope?

I’ve thought of a possible temporary stop-gap measure for my problem but right now I just don’t have the money for it. I also don’t have the money right now for expensive psychiatric care. Am I doomed to experience gut-wrenching anxiety about entering a bookstore because of the possibility I might see a book on the floor?

I don’t want to live like that. I need help.

Copyright by White Feather. All Rights Reserved. Writings of White Feather

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