"i think i'm over the whole bedbug thing," i tell my friend eddy while we are shelving. "i don't get all itchy when i get in bed anymore. my obsession is over."

he doesn't look at me but says: "don't worry, something else will be along shortly to take their place." the implication of course being that i must be obsessed with something at all times.

"are you saying that i'm damaged?" i pull a bunch of world war two books that are crowded together to the point of combustion.

"no, i'm merely saying that...well..."

it's okay eddy. i'm a nut.