Something Borrowed, Something Blue

I am no longer allowed to borrow things from my friend, S. S. loaned me her CD set of 7 Habits of Highly Effective People. Shortly after I finished listening to the collection, my car was stolen - and the list of items missing is as follows: my CD player (no surprise), a case of Arrowhead water, the necklace to my work ID card (though not the card itself), my She-Daisy CD (BASTARD!), and - of course - 7 Habits of Highly Effective People.

I repeat. A car thief stole my borrowed copy of 7 Habits of Highly Effective People.

Some people may think I harbor a bitter taste for Mr. Car Thief. In actuality, I would be rather interested to meet him. Not only did he take such an odd and interesting assortment of things from my car, he then stole another car after mine (in a much nicer neighborhood) - and gifted me with the next fellow's spare tire, jack, business cards, glasses, and papers from inside the glove box. Apparently he works on some bizarre bartering system.

I also had one of those steering wheel covers that provide ridges to give you a better grip. Mr. Car Thief didn't like it. He cut it off. My husband explained that this was so Mr. Car Thief could take his fingerprints with him - except Mr. Car Thief left the cover on the passenger seat.

But I digress. $100 later, S. now has a new copy of The 7 Habits - along with Mr. Covey's new release - the 8th Habit.

S. next loaned me a book called The Four Agreements (absolutely fascinating read). Not only did it open my heart and my mind to a new possibility - a new way of considering the world and how we interact within it - it also served as a nice chew toy for my new puppy (who climbed on my $600 writing desk, scratching the surface, solely to chew on S.'s book, knock over a poisonous plant, eat said plant, and spend the afternoon puking all over my floor).

Amazingly I kept the puppy. I bought S. a new book, and now, literally, I have a dog-eared copy of The Four Agreements in my library. While I am grateful to increase my library of spiritual/wisdom books, I would like to think that there is a simpler way.

Then, last week, S. loaned me Geronimo: The Autobiography of a Great Patriot Warrior, which has promptly been introduced to my two year old and a full glass of apple juice. I managed to wipe the book down fairly quickly, and none of the pages are sticking together - but I am undecided as to whether or not I can return the book in good conscience. And I didn't even get to read this one yet!

Something old,
Something new,
Something borrowed,
Something blue.

Something stolen,
Something chewed,
Something drenched,
in apple juice.