Confession: Addiction

My "too read" section.
Since I was a wee lass, my mother would buy me books. If I wanted a toy, she'd buy me a book. She had no problems spending my dad's hard-earned cash on the publishing industry and would rather spend it that way than on Cabbage Patch Kids.

And much to Freud's delight, my love for books can be traced back to me being a child and my mother (and in part, my father). My apartment is flowing with books. There are boxes still in my parents' basement that are filled with methodology books, Nancy Drew, and a lot of Egyptology.

The collection at home is mostly fiction-based with a heavy focus on paranormal/ fantasy and young adult. The number of (auto)biographies are growing due to my interest in the tolls that the music industry takes on the average bear.

Craft books that need a home.
We can't even use the desk since it's stacked with SCBWI bulletins and Writer's Digest back issues. Not to mention that the surrounding floor is littered with craft books and project notes. The piles on the floor are stacked precariously and by some divine intervention The White One hasn't knocked them over yet.

The words "library book sale" make my heart sing and my purse cringe.

I'm not a pack rat; I have a book habit.

Hubby's graphic novel & movie wall.
 Hubby is just as bad when it comes to comics and graphic novels. His collection of comic long boxes destroyed a shelving unit a short time after we moved into our current apartment. The thunderous crash woke us both out of a dead sleep. We're lucky it didn't kill a cat.

Believe it or not, everything has it's place. Hubby keeps his graphic novels in alphabetical order. I want to be that anal, but there's way too many options to organize. So they're in "Alicia order" and I know where most of my books are.

Our hardcover bookcase.
To say we need a better storage system is an understatement. At this point, our collection needs a room of it's own. Complete with a circulation desk, library stacks, and one of these so I can keep track of who borrowed what when.

So the question remains, Why so many books?

People keep books for many reasons. They fashion themselves a book collector. Bobby Fisher gave them the book in fifth grade. They were transported to a new world. They're saving it for fuel once the zombie apocalypse comes.

Barring the books for fire scenario, the words meant something and somewhere down the road, that book will be read again. Is this true for every one and every book? Of course not, but it's more the case than not.

Part of the fantasy book collection.
Does everyone trip over their feet to maneuver around their books? Just because I don't want to be alone in this, I'm going to say yes. Can they find their copy of Beryl Evans' Charlie the Choo Choo? Even if they could, they probably wouldn't want to.

Do you have too many books and not enough space? Share your tale of woe (and secret solutions!) in the box below!

____________________________ hit of the day: My Plague by Slipknot