Musings on books
In starting to pack my books for the (hopefully last) cross-country move, I've realized something that has been nibbling on the back of my mind since we left Philadelphia.
I don't know where half my books are. For those of you who know me well, you know this is a seriously painful realization. I don't know, for example, where my entire collection of Robert Heinlein novels is. I have a couple--because I bought them (one of them for the THIRD time) when I really wanted to reread them and couldn't find them. But I distinctly remember both having an entire two shelves-worth of these books as well as packing them in a box when we left Philly, and putting a list of exactly which books were in which box into my packing list...and now I can't find the box or the list or anything.
I know there's a lot of other books I'm missing--I'm thinking something like 3 large boxes' worth. I also distinctly remember putting boxes of books in Mike's dad's garage, but we took those boxes apart the last couple times we were in Philly and none of them had Heinleins in them, so where are these other boxes??
I've also realized that while I still love most of the books I have here, I have lost interest in many others. I no longer need to have them at hand all the time when I have a Kindle to get access to anything I want in mere instants. So, I'm paring down my collection as well. My goal is less than 1000 fiction books to take to Philadelphia with me...this does not include, of course, my knitting book collection or my veterinary medicine/schoolbook collection.
ETA: Just had a fight with Mike over ordering the 50-some-odd books it will take to replenish my Heinleiniana. I don't understand why he cares whether I buy them now or in Philly. It's going to end up costing the same (the weight they'll add to the truck is negligible) and I'll have time to reread at least some of them before we go. Ordering them now makes me happy. Why is that so wrong??
I don't know where half my books are. For those of you who know me well, you know this is a seriously painful realization. I don't know, for example, where my entire collection of Robert Heinlein novels is. I have a couple--because I bought them (one of them for the THIRD time) when I really wanted to reread them and couldn't find them. But I distinctly remember both having an entire two shelves-worth of these books as well as packing them in a box when we left Philly, and putting a list of exactly which books were in which box into my packing list...and now I can't find the box or the list or anything.
I know there's a lot of other books I'm missing--I'm thinking something like 3 large boxes' worth. I also distinctly remember putting boxes of books in Mike's dad's garage, but we took those boxes apart the last couple times we were in Philly and none of them had Heinleins in them, so where are these other boxes??
I've also realized that while I still love most of the books I have here, I have lost interest in many others. I no longer need to have them at hand all the time when I have a Kindle to get access to anything I want in mere instants. So, I'm paring down my collection as well. My goal is less than 1000 fiction books to take to Philadelphia with me...this does not include, of course, my knitting book collection or my veterinary medicine/schoolbook collection.
ETA: Just had a fight with Mike over ordering the 50-some-odd books it will take to replenish my Heinleiniana. I don't understand why he cares whether I buy them now or in Philly. It's going to end up costing the same (the weight they'll add to the truck is negligible) and I'll have time to reread at least some of them before we go. Ordering them now makes me happy. Why is that so wrong??