It's not Thomas-the-Wonder-Granddog's need for a fenced yard in which to romp which is prompting their move. It's not an overwhelming desire to ride the train into the city every morning that is fueling their passion. It's not suburban shopping malls or fantastic schools or reducing their monthly outlay while building for their future.... no, the real reason they are moving is because there's no more room in their apartment for their books.
The floor to ceiling shelving has been double stacked for a long time. On my last visit, the third row was beginning to overflow. Tomes were stacked hither and yon and I watched Little Cuter's sadly shaking head, slowly turning, side to side, as she offered me volumes to take home and refused my offer to send some of her favorites from Tucson to Chicago. "My books are three deep - I need a home!"
I didn't take a picture; I didn't want to make her sad.
TBG and I are not much better off.
Climbing the stepstool is still a challenge for me, especially when my hands are full. Thus, I've beem using the bottom two shelves to store library books and used book store books and class texts and novels I've grabbed to find a specific quote. I never quite get around to putting them back where they belong. I am stymied by the ever decreasing amount of space that remains.
We can't move again - oh, dear, we most certainly cannot - even if my library is taking over the place. I have to be ruthless once again, I suppose. I left 20 years of books in Marin - public libraries, used book stores, and homes for the aged were the recipients of my largesse. I vowed that I would be a library patron. I vowed that I would resell the used books I bought. I would not retain my hoarding habits.
Obviously, those plans went awry fairly quickly.
Big Cuter has multiple copies of his favorite books. These three are in the give-away box because there's a fourth copy on the shelf in his room here in Tucson and another one on his shelf back in San Francisco. At a certain point even he could agree that enough is enough.
I convinced him to spend an hour a night with me going through the boxes I had moved from California to his closet here in the desert. The Sherman Alexie was mine; all the rest of the books in that box and the 7 others that we went through were his.
I love a kid who reads and I got two of them. I wish they came equipped with their own furniture.
An aside - I was supposed to be born on this date 60 years ago. I love the image of my mother, feeling the contractions on the 27th, urging me to relax and stay put for just 2 more days. She knew that I was missing the chance to be something special - a leap year baby. I'm still aggravated at my neo-nate self for missing the opportunity to celebrate my 15th birthday today.