It turns out that I must have been building the Tower of Babel because my tower of books came tumbling down all of their own accord.
My husband who was the chief eyewitness, swears he was on the other side of the room at the time when he heard a rumble and a crumble as my precious tower of good intentions crashed dramatically to the ground.
He’s always been wary of my dubious stacking techniques but after filling the boot at the local scout book sale and supporting our local independent bookstores and buying a few titles online and did I mention that we even raided a friend’s stash which had been bound for the op shop, the house is almost made of books.
Books, books, more books. We can’t get enough books.
Now, the problem is what to do with them all.
Yes, reading them would be a start but it will take years… decades… more than a lifetime!
Any ideas or perhaps confessions from other chronic bibliophiles?
I’d love to feel supported when the next savage minimalist appears at my door and wants to sort the place out. They always seem to point their discerning finger straight at the books: out!
However,perhaps you’ll appreciate that these wonderful misunderstood and undervalued items of clutter are actually friends and are much closer to me than soul mates. They share the rhythmic beating of my heart.
Anyway, I’m on the look out for some more real estate…I mean bookshelves. Somehow I need to find homes for the new additions.