I cleared a few bookshelves last night, but there are more to go. I have to pack them in a hurry, because the temptation to just sit there and start reading is nearly irresistable.
The books on top seem to speak to me, right before I close the flaps. "Pick me up and get lost in me again," they say. A Distant Mirror, Stranger in a Strange Land, The Sum of All Fears, Tigana, Faith of the Fallen, Griffin and Sabine, On Basilisk Station, The Apocolypse Door, My Brother Michael, Dragonsdawn, Touched By the Gods, Cetaganda, The Hobbit, Fair Blows the Wind, Jane Eyre, The Path of Daggers, Sharpe's Triumph, The Hero with a Thousand Faces...no wonder the boxes are so heavy when I am done. They're filled with the weight of worlds.
I can always look forward to putting them all back, and maybe this time in some semblance of order. Need more shelves...books aren't supposed to be all stacked on their sides, are they?
Anyhow, 18 days until moving day. Joy.