A letter from Jul 23, 2024

Dear FutureMe, I should be sleeping, but instead…? Instead, I am on eBay, ordering poetry books older than my parents. Plus, Kafka. How could I resist Kafka? I've been meaning to read his work for years. The Kafka is from 1952, but the book I originally went onto eBay for—a collection of poems by Percy Bysshe Shelley—is from 1947, and the other poetry collection I happened upon—by John Milton, featuring a vaguely familiar-sounding and apparently rather famous poem titled "Paradise Lost"—is from all the way back in 1937! I'm pretty sure they're all hardcovers, too, and I can't wait to get my hands on them. Do I need these? No. But if Maggie and Mom can spend dozens upon dozens of dollars on takeout and desserts and stupidly-fancy drinks as often as every other day—at least—then why can't I spend a measly eight or so dollars on a hardcover book that was printed before either of my parents were even born? Food and snacks and desserts only last until you eat them; books are forever. If I don't want to keep it after I read it—if at any point I no longer want it—I even have the chance to resell it and get at least some of my money back; you can't resell food. Clearly, buying books is superior. This email—letter?—is kind of pointless, but I just really wanted to gush about these old books I ordered, and it is currently five in the morning; everyone but me is unfortunately sleeping. Best wishes, Toby