It's a matter of too many pages
I have a book problem.
I buy books. I accept books. I subtly encourage people to give me books as gifts. My hunger for books far exceeds my ability to consume them. They flow out and over the bookcases, they pile in corners, reprimanding me for my lack of attention, "but you promised that I was different, that you would actually read me." I could not keep up with my book supply before, when I commuted on the train and had more than 15 minutes to dedicate to a single activity. Now, I find I can read 3-5 pages before getting interrupted or falling asleep. It is really hard to get through a book of any legnth in 3-5 page increments. So now the book problem is really getting out of control. I have books stuffed around the edges of the bed. I have books crammed into the pockets of the Munch's sleeper. There is one on the microwave and another in the diaper bag. Some are instructional (Super Baby Food) while others are supposed to be pleasure reads (Raising Fences). We simply don't have enough space in our small home to absorb the piles, yet I find that I can't stop. I am addicted to the promise and potential of each volume - this one will teach me, that one holds a story that will touch me deeply, and that one over there will make me see the world just a little differently. But devoting the time that it takes to unearth that potential seems nearly impossible these days - a silly luxury that just doesn't fit my life right now. And yet I continue to collect and horde them. Pile them. Cram them horizontally into the bookcases. Pray that we are not in for a large earthquake in the near future, which would bring the whole mess tumbling down.
My "problem" has already hit the next generation. Munch's collection has grown organically since his birth. I collected his books in a green basket in his room. They no longer fit - they slip and slide out of the basket and hide themselves under the sofabed or nestle behind the diaper pail. He hasn't read through his collection, either.
If you come to our house, please help me. Please find a book you like and take it home with you. Give it a good home, and, perhaps, a good read. Perhaps you can tell me about it when you are done.
I'm off to read my 3-5 pages. Goodnight.
I buy books. I accept books. I subtly encourage people to give me books as gifts. My hunger for books far exceeds my ability to consume them. They flow out and over the bookcases, they pile in corners, reprimanding me for my lack of attention, "but you promised that I was different, that you would actually read me." I could not keep up with my book supply before, when I commuted on the train and had more than 15 minutes to dedicate to a single activity. Now, I find I can read 3-5 pages before getting interrupted or falling asleep. It is really hard to get through a book of any legnth in 3-5 page increments. So now the book problem is really getting out of control. I have books stuffed around the edges of the bed. I have books crammed into the pockets of the Munch's sleeper. There is one on the microwave and another in the diaper bag. Some are instructional (Super Baby Food) while others are supposed to be pleasure reads (Raising Fences). We simply don't have enough space in our small home to absorb the piles, yet I find that I can't stop. I am addicted to the promise and potential of each volume - this one will teach me, that one holds a story that will touch me deeply, and that one over there will make me see the world just a little differently. But devoting the time that it takes to unearth that potential seems nearly impossible these days - a silly luxury that just doesn't fit my life right now. And yet I continue to collect and horde them. Pile them. Cram them horizontally into the bookcases. Pray that we are not in for a large earthquake in the near future, which would bring the whole mess tumbling down.
My "problem" has already hit the next generation. Munch's collection has grown organically since his birth. I collected his books in a green basket in his room. They no longer fit - they slip and slide out of the basket and hide themselves under the sofabed or nestle behind the diaper pail. He hasn't read through his collection, either.
If you come to our house, please help me. Please find a book you like and take it home with you. Give it a good home, and, perhaps, a good read. Perhaps you can tell me about it when you are done.
I'm off to read my 3-5 pages. Goodnight.
posted by munchmom at 1:19 PM
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