I got a library card last month.
And it's actually worse than that. I work in a heavily library-dependent industry. I have dreams of being a poorly selling author. And I did not have a library card until this June.
Sure, I've been in a few libraries around town to vote, and I've headed downtown to visit the Nashville Room in my quest to find out where Zora Neale Hurston lived when she was in Nashville. (The answer: with her brother on Lafayette, between the projects and the interstate.) But I just never had a library card. If I wanted to read something, I either bought it or, if I was particularly desperate, I got it from the library at work.
But then something happened, and I decided to get a library card. And may I just say, as someone so very late to the game, our library is really awesome. You can use the library's website to request any book from any library system-wide, and you can pick it up at the library most convenient to you. You can check yourself out, and if you repeatedly mess up, the people behind the desk will not snicker at you. You can download music from the library's website. And when you're waiting for, say, the Adam Ross Salon@615 to start, the staff will be delighted you are there, will make sure that you don't miss the announcement telling you to get your butt to the reception.
Our library is really great. And I was foolish for waiting so long to take advantage of it.