I've got a really ugly address book. I got it years ago for a birthday present. It was one of those presents that people give you who don't know you, like lotion and candles and velvet journals with matching pens. I didn't use it for ages, but then one day I needed to jot down an address some place other than a post-it note, so I was like, 'well, this will be okay for * now.* ' And here I am, years later, with a full and heavily-annotated address book that I STILL can't stand the sight of. It's got a black and white flower on the front and some quote in swirly script about friends being 'like windows through which you see out into the world and back into yourself.' I don't even know what that MEANS. But I do know it makes me want to hurl this book through a window, so apparently it's inspirational.
I know what you're thinking: 'Why don't you just REPLACE it, Rona?' And I'd be happy to--so very happy--but I never * remember * that I abhor it when I'm out and about. And it's not like replacing it is something URGENT that merits a single-minded quest from card shop to stationery shop to bookstore. Maybe I'll just SEE my new address book one day, the book I need/want/have always longed for, and that will be it, as neat and easy as you please, and I'll spend a glorious afternoon in a sunny window transcribing addresses in my best hand before setting this old thing on fire. Or maybe not. Maybe I'll still be glowering at these awful romantic flowers when I'm 80, with the book bursting at its spiral binding from stray stamps and postcards and penned updates scrawled up the margins, when the number of addresses I have for Deee has gone from four to sixty, and when I can no longer part with it for sentimental reasons.
Oh, NO. I have to get rid of this before it gets sentimental. Someone help me.