When one bookworm marries another, there are books peeking out of nooks and crannies and the unlikeliest of places all over the home, even behind the microwave where it may have fallen off when one of you was busy heating something and then, noting the lack of something to read, nonchalantly went on to another book.
When one bookworm marries another, there aren’t enough shelves in the house and those that were meant for the pretty photo frames and candle-stands must make peace jostling for space with impressive volumes about politics and peace.
When one bookworm marries another, you end up accepting that ungainly pile of books that grows every day on both your bedside tables as just another part of marriage, like snoring and socks on the floor.
When one bookworm marries another, there are arguments about who spent more on books that month and how irresponsible it is of the other to not consider the financial situation of the country and family while making these impulse purchases, until the other points out that the one making these accusations is guilty of the same.
When one bookworm marries another, they both often get separate review copies of the same book.
When one bookworm marries another, one could be in the middle of a fast-paced crime thriller hiding in the loo to avoid distraction and come out shame-faced to see the other beseech, “You can read outside too, but I can only pee in there.”
When one bookworm marries another, one flits between both their reading lists so one ends up going from history to foreign affairs to spirituality to economics to fantasy teen fiction within a day.
When one bookworm marries another, the space on top of the cupboard is also full of books that one accuses the other of hoarding without any intention to read. And the pile is now so big that even the taller of the two cannot reach up to keep any more books on it.
When one bookworm marries another, the bedside light is on till late at night while both of you tuck into your individual reading material, and sometimes, when one turns one’s head at night, there’s a thick hardback poking its corner into one’s eye.
When one bookworm marries another, a bookshop voucher from the kid’s school leads to a bloodbath until both of you compromise and decide to use it together, and spend four times the value of the free voucher while redeeming it.
When one bookworm marries another, handbags and office briefcases and the pockets in the backseat of the car never run out of something nice to read.
When one bookworm marries another, there is total understanding at the eerie silences that greet every question because the other is absorbed in reading.
When one bookworm marries another, life appears to be a sweet, strange story that would be exotic if someone decided to write it down for people on other continents to read.
Yes, it is a good idea for one bookworm to marry another.