Three weeks ago I started packing books. They stayed organized. They were well labeled. I didn’t have enough boxes, so it was slow. More boxes; more books. Shelves emptied. I even organized Mt. Bookpile some (put all the science fiction paperback together separated from the mystery paperbacks separated from the classics…). There’s one shelf I can’t get to until tomorrow until after my brother moves some stuff. I knew that.
Last night I thought I had all the other ones packed. The last, large box is, of course, miscellaneous. All the shelves that I ran out of box before books. It’s still fairly well labeled although not as well organized. I have a box just for borrowed books (from friends and family and a couple library books. I just packed it last night and will move it myself so I don’t lose it before the library books are due.) I kept out the two I’m reading (Anathem and a new Dorothy Garlock novel) and the one I have to read for book club next week (Call of the Wild).
Then I was looking for the errant knick knacks that I had missed. I didn’t find many of those. Instead I found…(of course) more books. There’s the group of oversized paperbacks from Mt. Bookpile that didn’t fit in the other box. Oh, and there’s The Monster of Florence. I forgot it didn’t fit into the nonfiction box. And there are a couple of my library school reference textbooks that I kept. And… you get the idea. Sigh…
(Check out the box labels.)