I spent most of the weekend rearranging the bookshelves in
my bedroom and have come the conclusion that I simply have
too many books. Probably not as many as some but what gets
me is that even after I weeded out the ones I’ve had for a
while and still haven’t read or simply didn’t like all that
much – an annual event that usually happens around this time
of the year – I didn’t free up all that much space.
I’m seriously thinking of putting some of my older author
collections that I only rarely read nowadays into boxes.
Maybe some of those under-the-bed ones where they’d still be
in reach. Boy, does that sound insecure or what? Oh, well.