There is a library in my house.
Before you ask, I do not live in some million square foot abode.
I live in two thousand square feet of suburbia.
And yet I have a library.
I also have a touch of OCD. Really, a drop of OCD because it only manifests itself in my library. My books are arranged by category, and then by how much I love them. Signed copies are in a special place of honor behind glass. Books I don’t plan on reading again? They get used as furniture. Anna Karenina is currently my coffee table, and if I never have to reread the paperback of Paradise Lost adding height to my couch- I’ll be one happy lady.
Curled up in this reading nook, my husband approached me the other day with a package in hand. I ripped it open excitedly, pulling the cellophane off a new deluxe edition of Jane Eyre.
My husband clears his throat. “Honey, you have a kindle now- don't you think you should look at getting rid of some of these?” he asked, scanning my bookshelves with wide eyes.
I nearly dropped my precious kindle. “Sweetheart,” I whispered, “they can hear you.”
He looked around in confusion. “Are you talking about the books?”
“Honey, they’re not books.” I hissed. “They’re friends.”
Struggling not to roll his eyes, he peers into the bookshelves again before shrugging his shoulders in defeat. I turn away from him, hugging Jane Eyre to my chest tightly before diving back into my book.
“It was just a suggestion,” I hear him say, as he gently closes the door.
My website http://www.lmlong.com
and link to goodreads http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/11750102-founder