The Mystery of Mysteries

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What is it about a good mystery that can drive us absolutely insane?!

Tonight is the finale of The Bachelor, a show that my husband believes does some serious damage to my nerd-credibility. But alas. It is what it is.

Over the weekend, oddly in the Bachelor-ish spirit, I came by a book store that had a whole shelf of books wrapped up, with vague descriptions. It’s this thing that you’ve probably seen on Pinterest (maybe not, who cares really) where the books are “blind dates”. Which, if we’re dabbling with YA then it’s about as terrifying as a legit blind date for me. (Thank goodness those days are over, being a married woman and all.)

And it was hilarious, because almost all of them had “love triangle” under main themes. If it ain’t broke, I guess.

But, as I tried to feign disinterest, I couldn’t help but want one. And it had nothing to do with needing a new book. I had a stack of library books a mile high waiting for me at home. No, I just had to know what was inside! I had to!!!

My curiousity was only ten bucks, but it seems silly now that I’m away from situation. And it got me thinking, why are we so curious? Why do we HAVE to know something, even when sometimes it’s not our business at all?

There’s that old, cliché saying, something about curiousity killing the cat… well, now that I think about it, this whole book thing just made me a murderer. I’ve probably taken away a life from my poor, fuzzy kitty. I mean she has nine, but still.

On behalf of all felines, I have to make this request. Mind your own business. Ignore gossip. Don’t eavesdrop. Don’t buy a book hidden in pretty packaging just so you can find out what it is. Don’t be like me. Don’t be a cat killer. Save a life, today!

(But seriously, who will the Bachelor pick! Who is it?! I’m tired of trying to find spoilers online. Is it the Canadian? I bet it’s the Canadian… and there goes Mr. Fluffington.)

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