One for the Books

What does one do when a member of the opposite sex has unknowingly and abruptly seized a sizeable chunk of one’s normal thought processes? And not just any member of the opposite sex at that, but a rare species that is highly unattainable for he is unavailable? One sulks for a few days then goes to search for another object of obsession.

So search I did. Now, I bid goodbye to a toxic fixation and welcome a very healthy fascination - bookshelves!

Ah, bookshelves. If you read a lot, you’ll have a strong compulsion to treat your books like your very own offspring. I have a couple of rules for those who borrow books from me. First, dust jackets of hardcover books have to be with it at all times. Second, do not fold or scratch my books or/and its jackets or I will do unto you as you have done to the book by creasing you alive. Third, minimal abuse on the book’s spine, please! I don’t mind a few lines on the spine, just as long as it’s still recognizable when the book is returned to me. Fourth, do not, under any circumstance, fold the back pages while reading. I will hurt you if you do this. Lastly, writing or highlighting of books is forbidden. Except for books that have duplicates. But that is usually reserved for me, unless I give you the book. See? I’m a pretty reasonable lender of books. All that really matters is their safe return. I still have a lot of books squatting on other people’s bookshelves. Newsflash, friends! They’re all feeling really homesick. I know so; it’s a mother’s instinct. Now please, do return them already.

Now back to bookshelves.

Last week, I moved to my brother’s room. This move signifies freedom for in all 23 years of my existence, I have shared a room with my older sister. Now I am free from the horrors of rudely interrupted slumber due to an alarm I didn’t set, of being locked out of my very own room, of being kicked out of my very own room, of fighting over the remote control and so much more. Now, I welcome the land of spacious closets, of not being yelled at by my sister for my hoarding tendencies, and most importantly, of bookshelves galore!

If I had seen you last week, you probably saw me beam like a proud momma while telling you how I organized my books alphabetically and separated them by genre. I wasn’t aware that an anal side of me existed until these bookshelves came into my life. Now, a love affair has bloomed, and you know what happens when love flourishes in this day and age - you stalk it on the internet.

Here are some really drop-dead gorgeous bookshelves for you librarians out there:






At least when I wake from a bewildering dream of having walked down The Aisle, of not being greeted by any groom, of continuing the ceremony despite the absence of a groom, of a very lively wedding reception where everyone else was enjoying themselves except for the groom-less bride, then finally, of being left alone in a hotel suite wondering, “How the hell am I gonna consummate this wedding?” – at least when I wake from that kind of bewildering dream, two syllables can calm me down – “bookshelves”.