It’s Book Lover’s Day and here I am packing up my books in preparation to move out my apartment into a new apartment at the end of the month. I have so many bookshelves, that when I bought them the people who brought them thought they were stocking a lawyer’s office.
No. Just me and my love affair with science fiction, fantasy and all the professional books I bought that I can never get rid of because every time I go “I think I don’t need…” I turn around and I’m searching through them all for some piece of information or other.
Two of my bookshelves don’t even have books but art supplies, old art projects/sketchbooks and my sewing stuff! Bookshelves are love, y’all.
I’d rather buy books than clothes. I buy hardcovers because I’m too impatient to wait for soft covers of my favorite series. Every time I start thinking about getting rid of my fiction books lately, I second and triple guess myself until it never happens.
I started buying books as soon as I started getting regular allowance money. Back then soft cover books were only $3.99. The biggest universe I bought was Star Wars. The only complete series I have from back then is Mossflower by Brian Jacques. I’ve weeded out my book collection three times over three moves. (And still have shelves and shelves of books.) I’ve forgotten books on one move and intensely regret it. (Damn it, there was Asimov in that box!)
If I was smarter and more patient, I’d only buy softcover books because they’re easier to move.
I love books. I write books for other people who love books too. I offer paperbacks because I know I’d rather have something I can hold in my hands when I’m sick or tired instead of squinting at another screen.
Books can’t hurt me. Books can’t let me down or break my trust. Books have been there for me when people haven’t, in the tough times and the good times.
I’m addicted to books. I don’t and won’t regret it.