New Library in Town

The highlight of my summer is obviously going to be the bookcase I bought as soon as I got home from school and unpacked the mountains of crap I call my worldly possessions.

It was the only thing keeping me sane during the last month of school amid late-night essay writing and end-of-the-year celebrations. I would get frustrated with a book that just wasn’t reading itself and I’d coax myself, Hey, Holstrom, if you finish reading this book, you can buy yourself a new bookcase. As a reward. For reading this one measly book. I may have cheated and fudged the rules a little, but who cares? I HAVE A NEW BOOKCASE.

That’s it, right there, up above. There’s another row of shelves on the bottom, but there’s a mountain of stuff in front of it right now because I’m really bad at moving in. Just pretend.

It’s tall and beautiful. I spend a lot of time looking at it with pride. You know, in a I can’t believe there are all of these pretty books right here, and they belong to me, me, me! kind of way. I’ve also been taking lots of pictures of it and, of course, Vine-ing it to prove how real it is. I’m kind of like a new mother showing off her baby.

Up until, oh, two weeks ago, I’d been living with these adorable little cubbies. While they were perfect for the young, naive version of me, who thought she would just swap out an old book when she got a new one, things obviously changed. It had gotten ridiculous. How ridiculous? Well…

2013-05-06 13.49.50-1

Yeah. Every book was strategically placed on the shelf to ensure maximum space filling. Every shelf had books two rows deep. Finding things required careful reorganization. When I came home for the summer, there was no room for anything new, hence the stacks in front.

It was time for a new friend. We got acquainted pretty quickly, although I’ve yet to name it. My handy-man brother helped (read: did all the work while I pretended to know what a phillips head screwdriver is) build it. We organized every book alphabetically by author, and it just wouldn’t be my life if I didn’t mix up names and put Fahrenheit 451 in the R section instead of the B. So I reshuffled all the books. Then I checked out every little cubby and made sure the books were pushed perfectly to the edge of the shelf. And made sure they were all truly in alphabetical order.

Then my mom walked by as I hugged the bookcase and took a big whiff of the best smell in the world.

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