In Which My Bookshelf Obsession Worsens
As I stare at the towering stacks of unshelved books in my home office, I fantasize of meticulously categorizing them on crisp white shelves. There are eight stacks, each 15 or 20 books high, across a teak coffee table; several smaller stacks on the floor beneath.
As I stare at the towering stacks of unshelved books in my home office, I fantasize of meticulously categorizing them on crisp white shelves. There are eight stacks, each 15 or 20 books high, across a teak coffee table; several smaller stacks on the floor beneath. Another three stacks sits on top of a guitar amplifier, and more short stacks rise up like a small city encroaching on my laptop. Each time I set off in search of books — fiction, nonfiction, art, children’s, etc. — I never think too much about where they will all be stored, even though I should. The past couple weeks I’ve been plotting a wall-length library (approximately 15 feet) in my office. After stumbling upon the website Bookshelf Porn, however, I want to buy more than a few bookcases, I want purchase a whole new house. 
