Entry tags:
LJ Idol: "Tsundoku"
We moved in June.
Just the way it is in a big city, every year the rent goes up, and if it's not worth the extra cash, we find somewhere better, or cheaper. If you're lucky, both.
This time, we got lucky.
So we moved, and, as we do every year, promised ourselves we would never move again.
An enormous living room, two big bedrooms, two (2!) bathrooms, what more could we ask for?
Storage.
Specifically, shelf space.
The first piece of furniture I have ever bought with the intention of keeping forever is a bookcase.
Simon added to his collection of two.
So now we have extra bookcases, and a desk, and a ridiculous sofa to go with our ridiculous living room.
The only thing I did not buy is a bedside table.
I didn't think I would need it at first. I thought I could get away with leaving phone on the other side of the room and have it function as an alarm clock, force myself to get up and turn it off on the other side of the room.
That did not work out.
(I have never been a morning person.)
So I eventually put together a bedside table using two boxes left from the move.
Sort of left over.
Well. Full.
Of books.
I sometimes go through the box, telling myself I need to actually read some of these, rotate with the ones on my bookshelf that I haven't read, maybe use my commute to catch up.
But my commute is shaky, and I'm either still asleep or too tired to focus, despite wanting desperately to finish some of my reading list.
The genres and subjects vary from screenwriting guides to urban fantasy capers to financial explanations.
It's all exciting, or new, or interesting. I am craving a holiday and a good read.
And yet, and yet.
I have never been allowed into a bookshop without an adult.
That hasn't changed, despite the fact that I'm a real grownup now, with bills, taxes, a permanent job and no time to see friends.
The only true adult who can supervise me in a bookshop is my dad. Some things don't change.
But another three books were recommended to me over the weekend, so gosh.
I'd better find some space on my overflowing shelves.
Just the way it is in a big city, every year the rent goes up, and if it's not worth the extra cash, we find somewhere better, or cheaper. If you're lucky, both.
This time, we got lucky.
So we moved, and, as we do every year, promised ourselves we would never move again.
An enormous living room, two big bedrooms, two (2!) bathrooms, what more could we ask for?
Storage.
Specifically, shelf space.
The first piece of furniture I have ever bought with the intention of keeping forever is a bookcase.
Simon added to his collection of two.
So now we have extra bookcases, and a desk, and a ridiculous sofa to go with our ridiculous living room.
The only thing I did not buy is a bedside table.
I didn't think I would need it at first. I thought I could get away with leaving phone on the other side of the room and have it function as an alarm clock, force myself to get up and turn it off on the other side of the room.
That did not work out.
(I have never been a morning person.)
So I eventually put together a bedside table using two boxes left from the move.
Sort of left over.
Well. Full.
Of books.
I sometimes go through the box, telling myself I need to actually read some of these, rotate with the ones on my bookshelf that I haven't read, maybe use my commute to catch up.
But my commute is shaky, and I'm either still asleep or too tired to focus, despite wanting desperately to finish some of my reading list.
The genres and subjects vary from screenwriting guides to urban fantasy capers to financial explanations.
It's all exciting, or new, or interesting. I am craving a holiday and a good read.
And yet, and yet.
I have never been allowed into a bookshop without an adult.
That hasn't changed, despite the fact that I'm a real grownup now, with bills, taxes, a permanent job and no time to see friends.
The only true adult who can supervise me in a bookshop is my dad. Some things don't change.
But another three books were recommended to me over the weekend, so gosh.
I'd better find some space on my overflowing shelves.
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This is great.
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Now I see where so many of those books came from-- and there probably would be still more if you roamed free with an ample credit card. ;)
It's hard to resist books. I am a huge fan of the library (and our local 'hold' system), which keeps me from accumulating so many permanent 'to read' books. But the ones on loan? I still have a sizable pile of those...
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