While it is true I am in the Top 10 Bookstore Nazis of all time, they are, as much as it might seem hard to believe, one of my favouritest places in the world.
They also appear to be a temporary cure for my wee obsession with cleanliness.
I kid you not.
BTW, this is not me, but he's hella cute.
I can't tell you how many times I've ended up sitting on the floor of a bookstore to go through shelves or to start flipping through a book/s.
Do I care about when the last time the floor might have been cleaned or vacuumed? Do I care I might end up scratching for the next two days because I'm allergic to the cheap-as-shit carpet? Do I care about the fact I could be sitting in the exact same place where someone tracked in dog poo? Do I even care that the dog itself might have come in and sat down thus sharing it's fleas with the world?
It's a miracle! OCD cured!
Or it could just be my OCD is so focused on fixing up the categorising and shelving of the books that it doesn't notice anything as disgusting as dirt, germs and dust mites.
So, are you a bookstore-floor-sitter-downer? Or are you way too fastidious for that? Maybe you bring your own sterile cushion because you know you won't be able to resist the beckoning floor?
Now there's a thought...