How can I be true?

With so many smart, insightful, sensitive, sexy books to choose from, how can I be true? Is there enough of me to go around?

Books have always been my primary love (aside from chocolate eclairs, cowboys and, um, my husband of course). I have had many fiery one-night stands as well as long, committed relationships with books. Someone I know (a college professor? Erma Bombeck? Mr. Noodle?) said they wanted to be the kind of person who finished every book they ever started. Well, I wish I were that kind of person too. But me, monogomy and books have never made it last. There are more than eeehhh a dozen half finished books laying next to my bed alone. Not to mention on my desk, in my closet, in the attic, in my son's room and piled next to the toilet. Yes, I am a book slut.