My house of books

I swear... my house is a museum. Over the weekend, I moved ALL my books into the playroom. I organized them so that they are in the bookcases up against the wall... not bothering anybody. I then gave Daba a Virginia Woolf room of his own and removed all the toys from his new TV room  that USED to BE my son's bedroom a hundred years ago.

Isn't it crazy how they grow up and have children of their own? Our grandchildren. Grand as can be... that is.

I have so many books. This doesn't make me feel bad. I met a girl at a writing workshop recently that said her husband called her collection of books... an ....AVALANCHE. And the other day Kenz told me about her Drama teacher who told the class that HALF of her house is.... books. I don't feel so bad, even though I have a book ---jones. My husband has been telling me this for years.

I have other collections. I have clothes and games and toys and  of course, I have my BOOKs. Children's books, fiction books, non-fiction books, books on tape and books on my KINDLE.

Nevermind the saying.... it's a man's world. It's a book's world! If I had to let go of them all I would. I would call the second hand bookstore and say... come and get them. For now, they are OK. They are all in line, letting the next one stand quietly, no fussing, no whining.

If they have to go and live somewhere else, I would say good-bye, I'll visit you at the store.

My books bring me alive. I don't even read them cover to cover. Oh, some of them I do, but not all of them. They are all friends though.

I swear .. my house is a library.