Borders is a BAD BAD place for people like me who exercise no self-control when it comes to books.
Saturday seemed like any other normal day. Tagged along with The Boy since he needed a little spinal action at the chiro. I should have known better. I should have stayed at the clinic waiting room instead of wandering around the credit card hazard that Bondi Junction Westfield is *$kaching$*
The last thing I remembered was walking past Borders and I thinking - "Pffftt ... you're NOT going to make me buy anything this time!"
The next thing I remembered was looking down and I was holding a BIG bag with "Borders" splashed across it as if to mock me and what looked like 1 ... 2 ... 3 ... omigod 5IVE freaking books and 1 magazine!!
Damn you Borders! Damn you!! *shakes fist at Borders*
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