Just one more book...
I am a bookaholic. I suppose that is the first step in recovery, but I also suppose that I have to want to recover for it to take. My only impetus to part with books comes from lack of space. Periodically I decide that I simply must get rid of some books since the shelves are bulging with too much knowledge, some of it in leather with gold trim no less. I peruse the shelves, agonizing over each tome. No, not this one. No, I can't part with this. Oh, my, I haven't even read this one! An hour's labor yields one book, unless I got dragged into rereading a favorite.
How can I relinquish these little gems? From histories of the world to politics to religion to home-schooling, so much lives and breathes within these pages. I have so much and I'm greedy enough to want more.
Recently I saw a post online offering 25 boxes of books -- free! I didn't even know what the titles were, and my salivary glands had started. My husband Don read the post over my shoulder and said. "Take your hands off the keyboard and back away. Slowly." He knows me so well. (I tried to get them later, but they'd already made it to someone else's garage.)
And the bookcases keep growing taller.