Jealousy

I get a little bit jealous every time I go into my local comics store. Admittedly, I have a rather extensive collection of comics dating back into the 1980s, but over the last year I've branched out to sample some other odds and ends, and all this has made me want more. I have a subscription to 10 monthly comic books and a few bi-monthlies through the store (10% discount with 10 monthlies = swell!), so each week I have 3-4 issues waiting for me when I walk in the shop.

Other guys, however, have stacks of 10, 20, and sometimes even 30 books, and they spend their time browsing the racks for more. Before you go getting all worried, I cannot fathom spending $35, $65, or $100 PER WEEK on comics -- all hobbies have their limit, and mine stops way before that. But it does make me exceedingly greedy when I see these guys walking around with a stack of comics that could keep a small army in supply for a few days; oh, the fun I could have spending an entire day reading nothing but cartoon captions!

I can see my set-up now -- a sun chair out in my freshly mowed backyard, a radio broadcasting the afternoon major league baseball game, and a cooler full of Cokes, waters, and Gatorade. I could construct a comics stand out of cardboard and our leftover TV box, and Sula would bring me a cheeseburger and some fries from Wendy's at my beckon call. Then, after I get sunburned (usually about 15 minutes in the early summer), I could come inside to a new episode of Gilmore Girls or Grey's Anatomy and fall asleep on the couch, my lymphatics bursting with chylous (digestive) fluid reflecting my extraordinarily fatty meal and my brain buzzing with the post-Coke caffeine rush. Then I would make a token attempt to study, decide its not worth the effort, and then drive to Whetstone Park and throw the Aerobie with Sula until dusk.

What a day ...