As I work through the process of hauling box after box down from the attic, I am coming to a realization: Holy Cow, I have a lot of books.
I’ve had this vision of a perfectly organized library, and it started that way. I’ve got my sets in order, I’ve divided sections by subject area, and I’ve even put all my fake first editions* in chronological order by publication date.
But I gotta be honest: I’m starting to poop out. I’m about ready to just throw them up there in any old place. I need to call it quits for the evening.
The Boy decided he wanted to be a part of the process. I was stretched out on the couch, ready to call it an afternoon when I heard … thump … thump … thump… I got up to see what was going on, and there he was, dragging another box down the stairs. When the boxes got too big to drag, he’d just bring up a smaller, empty box and fill it up. He’s smart like that.
I thought I could distract him with books I loved from my childhood, but The Boy just kept bringing more boxes and insisting on helping me shelve. Finally I had the successful idea of luring him away with pizza.
Damn it. I hear the thumping again. This is in real time, folks. The pizza must have given him new energy. Lucky for me, 8 o’clock is bedtime.
We got countertops today and flooring yesterday. I’m only some touch-up paint and window treatments (and putting away books) away from being done. I feel extraordinarily blessed to be so close to realizing a dream. It’s just so cool.
Pics from my phone as we work:
Everything’s all topsy-turvy as we figure out where its new home will be.
The goal here is to end up having everything standing upright and looking pretty, as well as making sense (to me, anyway).
As soon as I get it all moved in, I’ll take some photos with a real camera and do a “before and after” comparison. Should be fun!
Gotta go send the kids to bed.
Real-time comment from The Boy, 8:21 p.m. CST: “Mom, you’d better get some rest tonight. You know why?”
TB: “Because I’m going to be ready to work tomorrow. So you’d better be ready too.”
*By fake first editions, I mean books reprinted by the First Edition Library, a now-defunct arm of the Easton Press. (Their blurb: “Each First Edition Library volume is identical to the original edition, down to the first critics’ comments printed on the jacket flap. The design of every volume is unique to its own era: the dust jacket artwork, hardcover bindings, typefaces, endpapers, title pages, even the minor errors that collectors look for.”) I like fake first editions better than real first editions because a) they’re cheaper, b) I don’t feel guilty about reading them, and c) they’re pretty.
Categories: The Library