Book Bitching

I spent pretty much the entire day curled up with Merlin, my cat, and reading - I’m quite close to the end of Dead as a Doornail, and may even finish it tonight.

Another bulk of the day I spent uncluttering the books I have stored in my closet. I desperately need another bookshelf - my five-shelver is overflowing. I’ve had my less favored books stored in my closet for a long time, including some non-fiction ones that were from a phase of my life that has long passed. When I see those books sitting there in my closet, not doing a whit of good to anyone, it just reminds me of how stupid I was to buy all of them, barely even reading them except to page through to the different sections. So I decided to do something about it. Hey, it’s a new year - I should do some housecleaning and make a dent in all the clutter in my room anyway. So I pulled out all of these books, and wrote out exact notes on their condition. I take very good care of my books anyway, but these I had barely touched at all, I’d just bought them to feel wise and important, honestly. But when I sell or swap books, I always take note of even the slightest of imperfections, because I feel the buyer/swapper has every right to know. I had some places where I could list up those books and people might be interested in them, so I organized it all - setting my selling rate for the price listed on the book, minus two dollars - and posted them up. I feel rather accomplished. I did something productive today. I could use some cash to feed my book addiction anyway, so it was a practical move.

I may eventually list up some of the fiction books I have no attachment too, though these are few and far between. I get very attached to my books, which is where my problem with funds comes in. I prefer to own books, rather than borrow them from a library. First of all, the books are in better condition and I feel better about curling up with them in my clean bed. Library books tend to squick my OCD. But I also like the fact that I own the book, and I own the story, and I can see it there on my shelf, and revisit it like an old friend. I brush my fingertips across the spines of my favorites, and feel comforted. I am sometimes seen in bookstores, “visiting” these same favorite books that I already have copies of at home. People sometimes say I talk to them, but they are lying liars who lie.