Last week my husband and I went on a MAJOR fall-house-cleaning kick (is that even a thing? Like the dark side of the moon to spring cleaning?)
… and I told him I would “go through” all my books.
I know. Mistake.
But my bookcases may have looked something like this…
I don’t know what it is about re-homing books that makes my heart tug, but I know that not nearly as many novels (as he was hoping for) found their way into that insidious box labeled “donate.”
I can’t help it. I collect those bound pages like an old Romanian woman collects cats. ❤️
Plus, books require no kitty litter box cleaning, so my husband should count his blessing.
Seriously, I could have far worse addiction.
(… and we won’t talk about wine)