I confess. In addition to being addicted to books, I also have a small notebook fetish. From the purse-sized notebook I carry for jotting things down on the run, to the multiple spiral or bound journals that congregate on my shelves, I own a number of notebooks that I’m actively using as well as ones that I haven’t yet cracked open. And even though I have plenty already, I cannot help but be drawn to displays of notebooks and journals wherever I am. I always have to pick them up to see how they feel and what kind of paper is inside. I try not to overbuy, but really, is it so bad to have separate notebooks for morning pages, a personal journal, books read, writing ideas and all things wordy? And maybe one or two ready and waiting for when I fill up one of the ones in use? (And then there are the sketchbooks. I have at least five of those with varying types of paper: sketch, watercolor, multi-media. But that's another story.)
I guess it’s a fairly harmless and mostly inexpensive obsession—and it makes me happy. I’m all for noticing, savoring and encouraging the happy little things in life, and my notebook mania does makes me happy. I love every stage: browsing notebook choices, gloating over a shelf of blank notebooks, starting a new notebook and putting a period at the end of the last sentence of one I've filled up. Then I can start the whole process over again!
What little thing has made you happy this week?
“Notebooks are like attics, a place for treasures which sometimes turn out to be junk, but take you anyway to another time and place.” —Cynthia MacDonald