I Have Run Out of Places to Put My Books

I knew I had a problem when I bought a new bookcase and immediately started wondering where I could put the next one.

Not the next book.

The next bookcase.

That was the moment I realized things had gone too far.

I love books. I've always loved books. There is something satisfying about holding a real book, opening it for the first time, smelling the pages, and knowing that several hours of entertainment are waiting inside.

The problem is that books reproduce.

At least, that's what it feels like.

You buy one.

Then another.

Then you discover that the author wrote seven more.

Obviously, you need those too.

Then you see a beautiful special edition of a completely different book.

You don't need it.

You already own the normal edition.

But this one has a beautiful cover.

So now you own two copies.

And that is how the trouble begins.

My first bookshelf was small.

It looked enormous when I bought it.

I remember standing in the room thinking, “This will be more than enough.”

I was wrong.

Within six months, every shelf was full.

I solved the problem by putting books horizontally on top of the books already standing vertically.

It looked organized.

At least, that's what I told myself.

Eventually, the piles became taller.

Then they became wider.

Then I started putting books on the floor.

My wife noticed.

“Why are there books on the floor?”

“They're temporary.”

“How temporary?”

“I'm not sure.”

She gave me the look.

Every husband knows that look.

It means the conversation is over, but the consequences are only beginning.

I promised to organize everything.

Instead, I bought another book.

Then another.

Then I discovered something dangerous: online bookstores.

Before the internet, I had to physically go to a shop to buy books.

There was effort involved.

Now I can be lying in bed at 11:30 at night, see a book recommended to me, press three buttons, and have it arrive at my house two days later.

This is not technology.

This is a trap.

The delivery driver knows me now.

Sometimes he doesn't even knock.

He just leaves the package at the door and walks away.

I think he is embarrassed for me.

My wife definitely is.

“Another book?”

“Yes.”

“You haven't finished the last one.”

“I know.”

“You haven't even started the one before that.”

“I know.”

“Then why did you buy this?”

I looked at the package.

I had no good answer.

So I said the only thing I could.

“It was on sale.”

She stared at me.

Apparently, that wasn't a good enough reason to purchase another 400-page problem.

My biggest mistake was buying a bookshelf with adjustable shelves.

I thought adjustable shelves meant flexibility.

What they actually meant was that I could make room for larger books and therefore buy even more books.

I now have books in places where books were never supposed to be.

There are books beside the television.

Books underneath the television.

Books beside my bed.

Books underneath my bed.

There is a stack beside the dining table that everyone has agreed to pretend isn't there.

I even have a small pile in the hallway.

That one is particularly dangerous because someone will eventually trip over it.

Probably me.

And then there is the cupboard.

The cupboard is where unread books go.

At least, that's the theory.

The problem is that I keep buying books faster than I can read them.

I call it my “future reading collection.”

My wife calls it “evidence.”

She has a point.

The other day, I opened the cupboard and a book fell out.

Then another.

Then three more.

I stood there for a moment, staring at the pile on the floor.

I could hear my wife laughing from the other room.

“Everything okay?” she shouted.

“Yes!”

“Did the books attack you?”

“No!”

A pause.

“Do you need help?”

I looked at the mountain of books.

“No. I have this under control.”

I did not have it under control.

I spent the next twenty minutes putting everything back.

Then I found a book I had completely forgotten I owned.

It was exactly the kind of book I love.

I immediately sat down and started reading it.

This is another problem.

Organizing books is impossible because you keep discovering books.

I have tried arranging them alphabetically.

That lasted two days.

Then I tried arranging them by genre.

That lasted slightly longer.

Then by author.

Then by color.

The color system actually looked fantastic.

It also made absolutely no sense.

My wife asked me why the horror books were next to the cookbooks.

“Because they match.”

She walked away.

I think she has stopped trying to understand me.

There is, however, one final solution.

I have calculated the available wall space in our house.

If I remove a few pictures, move some furniture, and perhaps sacrifice one unnecessary cupboard, I can probably fit three more bookshelves.

Three.

Maybe four if we stop opening the door to the spare room.

Of course, there is one small problem.

My wife.

She has already informed me that the house is not becoming a library.

I told her that was an unnecessarily negative way of describing our future.

She did not laugh.

So I've developed a new strategy.

I'm going to stop buying books.

Starting tomorrow.

Definitely tomorrow.

Today, however, there is a book I have been waiting for.

It arrived this morning.

I haven't opened it yet.

I'm trying to be responsible.

I'm trying to show self-control.

I'm trying to convince myself that I don't need another book.

Then I picked up the package.

The cover looks beautiful.

The pages feel perfect.

And the book is exactly the right size to fit on the only remaining empty space on my shelf.

Honestly, it would be rude not to buy it.

So that's the plan.

One more book.

Then I'm done.

Probably.

Unless I find another bookshelf.