As I mentioned earlier, we’re moving. Today, I’m packing books. “Can’t you get rid of some of those books?” my husband asks, not for the first time. He doesn’t know that when I move into my new den, I plan to buy more books. Shhh!
“Let’s make a deal,” I say. “You get rid of half of your fishing equipment and I’ll get rid of half my books.” His tents, sleeping bags and assorted camping stuff fill several shelves downstairs. My book cases neatly line one wall of my study. He walks away.
I’m labeling my boxes by shelf so they’ll unpack in the same order. No one knows this yet but I plan to have wall-to-wall shelves built in my new place. It’s best not to bring this up right now. Shhh!
My husband convinced me to purge my books a few years ago. I thought he might have a point so I did. Just last weekend I met a woman who said she’d picked up a book that had belonged to me from a used book table. It was on the Holy Spirit. “You’d made quite a few notes in it so I thought it must be good.” While I contemplated asking her to return the book, she said she’d passed it on to someone else after reading it.
I don’t coddle my books. Coffee stains, flip-downed pages and post-it notes identify them as mine. Underlines and handwritten notes are precious to me. I seldom part with a book unless it’s fiction, and even then, I don’t part with my favorite mystery novels.
I’m a bit worried about packing my books. We’re not moving for 2 weeks and it could be that I’ll need a quote from one or two before then.