One of the nerdier things I participate in is Biblioventures through The Rosenbach, a Philadelphia museum for literature lovers.  

Biblioventures is a free, online series. Each season, the Rosenbach picks a book. One chapter, section, or story is assigned per week. Then, a Rosenbach staffer and a guest host a live YouTube session every Monday to discuss the assigned reading.  

Listen. This isn’t even the nerdiest thing about me. My iPad wallpaper is the Magna Carta, and my fantasy husband is Commander Riker of the Starship Enterprise. 

I live for those literary Mondays. Ahead of each session, a suggested drink — to match the subject matter — is included in the email with the YouTube link. Follow the recipe, throw in a few cookies — talk about a perfect Monday. 

This season, we’re discussing The Hobbit.  

Which is great. I own The Hobbit. I’ve read The Hobbit. 

Because I loved the movie trilogy, of course. And I have a crush on Thorin Oakenshield. A magnet depicting him — hair flowing, expression stern — adorns my fridge. 

OK. That might be the nerdiest thing about me. 

I examined my bookshelf, seeking my copy of The Hobbit. 

Huh. Not there. 

I checked my husband’s bookshelf. Maybe he borrowed it. 

Nope. 

I looked through my bedroom nightstand. Now, the rule for the books on the nightstand is used books only, purchased for their intriguing subject matter or for their presence on my TBR list. 

Not the one I keep on my phone. The other one — the one I keep in my head. 

You can’t get your nerd card with one TBR list, guys. C’mon. 

In desperation, I checked the stack of books on my coffee table. Now, you and I both know that stack is only for books I’ve bought. Books so special, they rate the rare move of being purchased new. 

Coming up as empty as Gollum’s pocket, I decided I’d just get a copy from the library. 

Except every single copy of The Hobbit in the Bucks County library system was checked out. 

I mean, am I looking for one of the 17,000 extant original copies of The Hobbit here? 

That — that’s a little Hobbit humor for you. 

Now, I assume it’s because other people are participating in The Rosenbach’s Biblioventures.  

And that’s good. Truly. I want that for them. 

But I also don’t. I want The Rosenbach all to myself. 

“I refuse,” I said to my husband, “to buy another copy of The Hobbit.” 

Even though I could buy a copy on ThriftBooks for $4.12. 

In the weeks ahead of the start of Biblioventures, I held fast to an idea that maybe, somewhere in Bucks County, someone was teaching a class on The Hobbit. Hosting a Hobbit convention where nerd posers would arrive with library copies in hand, pretending it was theirs.  

But a week out, no copies of The Hobbit populated the library.  

So I sprang for the used copy. Four bucks for a book I already owned. 

Which made me double down on my refusal to rent RoboCop from a streaming service. 

Because the other thing that makes me happy is my favorite podcast, The Evolution of Horror. 

Each week, the host discusses a different movie as part of a larger season on a particular genre.  

A few weeks ago, the selected movies were The Terminator and RoboCop. 

The Terminator I’ve got covered. I know it like I know Willie’s gonna Willie.  

And not just the famous lines — “I’ll be back” and all that. I’m not a poser, holding my library copy of The Hobbit at a Hobbit convention like it’s mine.  

Please. 

But RoboCop? No. I’ve never seen RoboCop. 

“You’ve never seen RoboCop?” my husband asked, incredulous when I told him. “You?”  

Nope. But I needed to. For the podcast. It’s, like, homework. 

And the regimentation of homework does make me happy. 

RoboCop streams nowhere for free. So, I again turned to the library for help.  

Several branches — not mine, but a few others — have RoboCop. 

Perfect. I placed a hold. Had it sent to my branch. Done. 

Now that I have one and a half kids in college, I have more downtime. So with a Friday evening stretching before me, I popped RoboCop into the DVD player. 

Yes, DVD. It’s an ’80s movie. We’re lucky I’m not using a laser disc. 

The opening was bright. Glossy. I can’t believe this is from the ’80s! I thought. No wonder it’s a sci-fi classic! It’s beautiful! 

Now, I never knew Samuel L. Jackson was in RoboCop. 

And that’s because he wasn’t. 

The remake, sure. But not the original. 

Annoyed, I stopped the movie. Put the DVD back in its case. Returned it to the library. 

Because we’re not talking about the remake on the podcast. We’re talking about the original. It’s an evolution of horror. You can’t watch the remake. That’d be like going from amoeba to blue whale without talking about the amphibious thingies in between. 

I can rent RoboCop. Of course I can.  

But I just spent $4.12 on The Hobbit. To spend $3.99 on RoboCop is excessive. And at 10 cents a word, you guys would have to read way more words for me to buy used books I already own and ’80s movies I need for my homework. 

I mean, be real. 

One evening over drinks, I told my husband about my RoboCop dilemma. 

“I appreciate your frugality, babe, but just rent RoboCop. I’ll pay for it.” 

Sweet, but not my favorite solution. 

I don’t really see where I have a choice, though. 

I have homework to do.