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The Books by My Bed
A personal essay, an ode
A quick survey of our small two bedroom apartment gives any visitor a heads up on who lives here.
Someone likes guitars. Note the six instruments hanging on the wall outlined by KISS posters. And someone else likes books. Note the seven shelves spread throughout the living room and bedroom. This is not counting the four shelves in the room that is obviously occupied by an adorable child, as indicated by the giant pink Barbie castle that sits in the center of the room.
Books and piles of books are how I live my life. They are how I make my day. They are how I decorate and know my home.
I used to organize my shelves in terms of subject matter, and within that, alphabetical order. Four moves with some degree of homelessness in between have cured me of this very organized habit. I have purged too many books, lost too many books, and some boxes are still in storage.
Now I have general subject areas, generally. I know where things are. I know how to find what I am looking for.
I have some books on Kindle, e-book, audible, but they are a last resort for me. If I am somewhere and bored. If I am in bed with my daughter or fiance and the lights are out. If a book was on sale or free in e-book and I don’t have enough saved up for the hardcopy yet. I prefer the…
