Jen Clodius

I read. It doesn’t seem to be a matter of choosing to read, or liking to read, or enjoying reading. It’s more a statement of fact: I read.

I also like owning books. I wholly support public libraries, school libraries, lending libraries, and the Gutenberg Project. Still, I like being able to think, “Y’know, I’m in the mood for some $author” and know that the book is right there on my shelf. I suppose, at some level, books represent a kind of wealth to me: I get to keep them!

But when you’re getting ready to move — even if you don’t know when or where you’re moving — it does seem wise to begin packing books when you own a pile of them. Completely aside from the fact that a) piles of books are heavy and need to go into small, manageable boxes and b) it helps to have a good grasp of geometry to fit awkward shapes into those boxes, I have an additional problem when packing books: I keep getting sidetracked.

“Oh! I remember you! I’ll set this aside to re-read soon.”

“Oh, my, one of my favorite series! I’ll set these aside to re-read.”

“I remember buying this; I wonder why I never got around to reading it? I’ll set it aside to read.”

You can see where this is going, can’t you? It’s taken some pretty stern discipline to put books into the boxes. It’s easy to justify leaving some out, because I don’t know when I’ll move and wouldn’t want to be entirely bookless in the meantime. But there are a limited number of hours in the day, and I do have other obligations (like work, and long-distance job-hunting), so I really don’t need a mountain of books set aside.

Besides, if I do run out of reading before I move, I can always go to the library!