That’s my question.

Because last weekend I found myself picking up a book I hadn’t read in ages—I got my copy at Borders, to give you an idea of just how long we’re talking—but that I must have read at least two or three times in the first couple of years after I bought it. It was on my mind because my best friend and I had just been talking about how much we loved it way back when—and still do.

There’s something about picking up an old book. It’s like putting on your favorite sweater. It’s cozy and comfortable; familiar. It’s worn in all the right places, and you know exactly how it’s going to fit.

But I—like many of you, I’m sure—have a reading list about 8,000 miles long, and there have been days when I’ve looked around at all the unread books on my shelves (my mother, sister, and best friend are all librarians; are we surprised I have a sizable collection?) and thought, “There is no way I’m going to be able to read all of these in my lifetime.”

That’s not even counting all the books I want to read that I don’t own. Or all the new books coming out every year!

Too many books, too little time.

So I can’t help but think: Should I feel guilty about rereading a book I’ve already read more than once? Granted, it’s been so long that reading it feels new, or at the very least, like a series of “Oh yeah!” moments, and as my mother says, reading is never a waste. But am I doing myself a disservice by choosing an old book over a new one? By leaving those unread books waiting even longer?

Hard to say.

All I know is, when I was curled up with that creased paperback Friday night (hot weekend plans, I know), reading the end of chapter one—a cliffhanger I already knew was coming—grinning like a fool and practically giddy with excitement, I just couldn’t bring myself to regret it.

Because what more can you ask for from reading a book?