I have a problem. (Okay, I have more than one problem, but I have one that’s particularly relevant to this blog post.) I buy books.
It started in college. I mean, I bought the occasional book before college, but college was when my paycheck was really my own, and so were my bills. So I bought my textbooks online, and shopped the BYU bookstore whenever they had ridiculous sales. (Ordinarily, they’re as high-priced as any new-bookstore, but now and again they go on crazy sale…)
I bought a few books a semester, just to read for fun. I wrapped them lovingly in the plastic bag, carried them home, read a few pages, and then realized I still had homework.
On the shelf with you, book.
Next semester, when I was finally done with that History of Medieval Warfare class, I would try to squeeze in some reading before homework happened. I usually lost that race.
By the end of college, I owned a few dozen books I hadn’t read. When I got married (a week after graduation), Ethan added his book collection to mine, and I had about 50 books I hadn’t read.
And then we went through Grandpa’s study in the basement. Grandpa died a few years before that, but the family was finally getting around to cleaning out the house. And for some absurd reason everybody but me probably understands, nobody in the entire extended family wanted all of his American history books. We carried home crates of books.
All this time, I was reading, reveling in the fact that I could read whatever I wanted. But I became aware that the books were creeping up on me, ever so quickly. I wasn’t reading as fast as I was getting new books.
And then Ethan got a job at a used bookstore. Heaven help us.
I’ve been using Goodreads to catalog and keep track, and I think I’ve finally got a pretty good hold on how many books I still have to read. I own 125 books I haven’t read – not including the ones Ethan’s brought home that I’m not interested in. (I haven’t really decided whether I’m interested in reading the Animorphs books yet.)
I did some quick math just now. If I read just a little over 2 books a week from here on out, I can finish all of them by the end of next year. By January 2017, I can proudly say I’ve read all of the books on my shelf (except for a few Spanish novels that belong to Ethan.) I think I can do that.
Of course, in order to do that, I can’t buy any new books until 2017. I have a problem. ♥