Do you ever get the feeling you have too many books?
I’m packing up for a big move this week. With only three days to pack, I don’t know what I would have done without my teenage boys. They have each done an amazing job packing boxes and boxes of books!
Where did all the books come from? I have given away what seems like a library of books to my church and local library, and friends and neighbors. Over the years, I’ve done this many times. Believe me, I’ve shared the books. And still, the boxes filled with books far outweigh and are more numerous than the rest of the packed stuff in the house. How can that be? Ha!
Just when I thought we were done packing books, I started on my bedroom and noticed I have stacks of books next to my bed piled high on the nightstand and on the floor. Not one or two boxes, but three boxes worth of books. These books are the most important because I’ve put them next to my bed with the intention of actually reading them. I’m usually reading more than one book at a time. One for research, another on writing craft, the Bible, and something for pleasure.
All the books on my Kindle are not included in this count—but imagine if they were physical books. Oy vey!
I’ve tried to cull because it feels like some wicked kind of insanity to pack and move so many books, but when I try to decide which ones to give up, I realize the books that are with me now are all the keepers that have survived the culling of previous years.
Some people love birds, some love cats or dogs—not saying that I don’t—but one of these decades when I’m very old and gray—say in my nineties—they will call me the book lady.