Today I'm working on my books and trying to find storage bins/boxes to store them in for the time being. I managed to find 5 bins, to be fair 4 of them are relatively small (the width is about the size of two hard backs laying side by side and as tall as two standing end to end on top of each other) while only one was a large bin. Now I need to go find at least one more bin; there are some books left somehow. Did you know I already have three other bins, large ones, already full of books, sitting in my garage? Nope well now ya do.
I walked into our bedroom carrying my bins and sat them down creating myself a work station. I got all situated then looked at my best friends. I sighed heavily. Rubbed my forehead for a few minutes. Then finally said "Nikki just do it already".
I didn't think about what I was doing until I got to my shelf of J.R.Ward books, I left those out since I'm doing the reviews on them for Literary Escapism. And that's when I heard the other books asking me why those got to stay out while they had to be boxed up tightly in plastic bins. Didn't I love them anymore? Didn't they make me laugh/smile/mad/sad/happy at all? Were they going to be gathering dust and forgotten? Will they be in jail forever?
I gingerly caressed each book in turn as I put them in their temporary home and grieved for their incarceration.
This isn't going to be forever right? I won't be without them for long? Cause I feel empty and violated and as if I'm on another planet without my paper friends. We've decided that if we can't sell the house before our contract expires then we'll wait until spring to try again, or at least until we see another house come on the market that we're interested in. They shouldn't be stored for long....I hope.
No comments:
Post a Comment