The title of this post does not refer to an ironically named college bar, but rather to my nerdy dream: to have my own library.
It’s not my fault. I grew up with this:
And this:
Why, hello, ancient Western culture!
But wait — there’s more!
And this:
That empty spot is where the records (LPs) should be. I surreptitiously lifted them all to cut them to .mp3 for Dad’s new iPod. And mine.
Still more:
There literally are three more walls of bookshelves I have not yet shown you, but I will stop now because you get it, despite the fact that these pictures were taken with my crappy phone camera. That’s a whole lotta books.
This is my Dad’s library. I grew up surrounded by books, books cluttering every horizontal surface, and that’s pretty much the way I live now.
I blame genetics.
The Big M built me a beautiful wall of bookshelves at our old house.
That ceiling hits 16 feet at its highest point, but these shelves were not nearly enough to contain all of my literature. I purged more than 200 books to get most of my collection to fit in there. And they never really fit, unless you call a double-shelved haphazard mess fitting. The Big M didn’t. But he was nice about it.
Now that we’re in the new house (new to us as of December 2007), most of my books have lived in the attic and in closets and on various mismatched shelves and horizontal surfaces in three different rooms. The dream has been to put all of them in our own home library. (And by proxy, to have a house that looks like something off of a design show on HGTV.)
The new house has an office, a room perfect for this end. And I am happy to announce that after two years of planning, designing, hiring a contractor, hiring a new contractor, redesigning, and hiring subcontractors …
we’re almost there.
It’s looking like the final project may be unveiled in a few weeks. And I can’t freakin’ wait. I’ll update with pictures as it progresses.
