Packing up books

We bought a house! We are moving.

Do you know what makes this move different from all the other moves?

I have a shelf of books. Well, mostly. I have 3/4 of a shelf of books, but let’s round up this once.

Isn’t that awesome?

I moved the magazines and anthologies (though, again, to be perfectly honest, the magazine and the anthologies), and I have almost a complete row of books, and that’s without the cowboy anthology that should be arriving at any time.

And even cooler, I have several shelves full of books from friends of mine, including Gym Dandy, which will, I swear, get a write up soon so I can take the Worst Friend Ever after my name. I think the only thing cooler than a row of books that you wrote are rows of books that people you love have written.

P.s. Did we mention The House That We Love has a separate library room off the main floor? (Huh, I’d written pain floor. Jungian typo, that.) Well, it does. I’ll have to keep a copy of each of the books down there, but keep most of them up by the computer so I can look at them whenever I think my first drafts suck drowning rocks.

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