The bookshelf situation in my room is fast evolving into a dangerous one. Ever since I dropped eight Rupert annuals (I’m a collector, okay; that’s less than a third of my entire collection) simultaneously on my foot, I’ve been tentatively skirting around my bookcases, and ignoring the fact that my books really need to be organised. After several charity shop sprees, I now have two layers of books on each shelf, and one of my cases is leaning. LEANING.
I think part of that problem is because no-one could be bothered to screw it to the wall. I’m terrified that it’s going to fall over owing to its top-heavy-ness, and then crush whatever cat that’s sleeping underneath. Or my toes again. If just eight Rupert annuals can cause me to collapse to the floor in a sheath of expletives, then I really don’t want to see the damage that Catch-22, 1Q84, and eighty quid’s worth of other literature could cause.
I know that I should bite the bullet and start re-organising. But I’m lazy, have a shed-load of work to do, and I know that if I start, then I’ll just spend the day re-reading old treasures and be left at 10 pm with a book carpet and sore toes. Thus I’m procrastinating instead.
Any other bibliophiles have this problem? Or am I just highlighting my sheer laziness?