Jackie Wells-Fauth
Did you know that one of Thomas Jefferson’s famous sayings was, “I simply cannot live without books.” It’s one of the few things that Tom and I can agree upon!
Did you further know that Samuel Clemens (better known as Mark Twain) read multiple books at the same time? Upon his death, he had no fewer than seven different books scattered in various rooms throughout his house, which he was reading simultaneously. Sam and I apparently share this in common—that and a tendency to shoot off our smart mouths!
I have a lot of books. Imelda Marcos had thousands of pairs of shoes. Jay Leno collects cars. Angelina Jolie collects knives, Penelope Cruz is into coat hangers, while Corbin Bernson follows my own heart and collects snow globes. But above all else, I relate best to people who have more books in their homes than they can ever possibly read. Did I mention I have a lot of books?
Now this collection is not one of Roy’s favorite things. We often go round and round about the books I am reading and leaving around the house.
“Why did I step on a copy of Famous Hauntings of Europe on the floor of the bedroom?” he will ask on any random morning.
“Oh, that’s where it went! I was reading it last night and I must have fallen asleep,” I reply.
“Okay, we will pass over why you are reading about hauntings late at night and I will remark instead that this might explain the copy of Alexander Hamilton in the bathroom,” he continues.
“Well, what am I supposed to do when I have to use the toilet or take a bath?” I ask. “Alexander doesn’t mind, so why should you?”
In order to minimize the appearance of the number of books I have, there is a wide ledge in the stairwell that is big enough to hold several bookcases and best of all, it is usually obscured by a door. (I try to always keep that door open, thus blocking the bookcases.) Roy doesn’t have to interact too much with the books, and I don’t have to keep justifying why I possess approximately a thousand books, and I still check books out of the library.
Unfortunately, this comfortable arrangement hit a snag this week when Roy decided it was time to paint the stairwell. The same stairwell with the large, accommodating ledge, which was even at that moment piled from ledge to ceiling with my books.
There were two choices: either I could clear the books out of the way, or I could let Roy do it. Now I love him very much, but I absolutely do not trust him not to pitch some of those books into the garbage if he thinks I’m not looking.
I got out three totes and began to fill them with books. Surely that would be enough. Except I filled the three totes and there were still books left…a lot of books. So, I grabbed an old laundry basket. I filled it to the top, cramming books into every crevice. That took care of a few more. In the end, I decided to stack some of them in the spare bedroom to get them out of the way. There are four stacks, halfway up the walls and there are still some books that were piled on top of the totes. I was satisfied with my work. The books were out of his way and Jessica Fletcher wouldn’t have to solve the murder case of the missing wife…and her books!
“You moved all the books yourself?” I could tell he was impressed when he came home and found the empty ledge in the stairwell.
“It was the only practical solution. If you moved the books, there would have been a divorce or a murder by book to the head,” I said. “When you’re done painting, don’t concern yourself. I’ll put the books back.”
“You want to sort them out and get rid of some?” he asked hopefully.
“No, I have some new ones that I need to add in,” I replied.
Did I mention, I have a lot of books?
dropsinthewell 