Thanks to Jess' reply regarding my previous post, I was forced to face an issue that will rapidly be before me. Packing. I graduate and move back to Texas in three weeks (eeek!) and so that means the apartment needs to start going into boxes. Some things like dishes, toiletries, and school supplies can't go in yet. So what to start with? Out of season clothes, games, and oh yeah-my shelves and shelves of books.
And there's the rub. My dad wants me to get packing and several friends have graciously offered up boxes. I'm procrastinating on my final papers and packing would be a seemingly productive way to accomplish this. So what's stopping me? Well, swimsuits and winter coats only take so long to pack. Scrabble and Pictionary? Check! And we're back to the shelves.
When Jess mentioned that she can't check the publisher of most of her favorite books because they're in storage, I gasped! Not only for her, but for me, because my stuff will be in storage for a while when I get to Texas as well. What if I need to look up that funny line from the book I read three years ago? Yes, I suppose that is what Google is for, but that's not the point. I'm going to have to pack a special box with the books I can't be parted from that will not go into storage.
However, my reluctance to pack them isn't even really about not being able to access my books. They'll still be here, just in boxes. The real problem is that my shelves will be empty. I love looking at my books. They are so pretty! Some filed in upright and others laying sideways. With the occasional tea pot, giant iron fleur-de-lis or wooden owl thrown in for interest. I like that I can look over my TV right now and see Emma's maroon spine resting next to One Hundred Years of Solitude's green one. (And yes, Katie, I fail at the Dewey Decimal System, but I do have my own system of organization.) Empty white shelves will be so sad. And so I procrastinate on my designated procrastination activity. It's going to be a fantastic three weeks.