Hi, My Name Is Missy and I’m a Biblioholic

(Altogether now: Hi, Missy!)

I don’t really remember a time when I didn’t read, apparently I must have started at an early age. There were ALWAYS books in our house and my parents read a lot, too. Every time I’ve moved, books have had the largest number of boxes dedicated to them. Last night we packed up 4 boxes of books, and 3 the night before. We’re not done yet, because we need to buy more boxes.

My problem is enabled by the fact that I married another active biblioholic. Those boxes we’ve been packing are clearly labeled “Books, Brian (histories)” or “Books, Missy (pink)”. We’ve got books from college, books in series, every book written by certain authors. Books from our childhoods that we’re holding for Abby. It’s that bad, people.

To top it all off, we’re creating a little biblioholic of our own. Abby’s going to have a full box of just her books, which doesn’t sound like a lot until you realize that her books are 30 pages long or less. That’s a lot of 30 page books! And it’s being added to the shelf’s worth I sorted through yesterday when I cleaned out the playroom. The kid has books *I* didn’t even know she had.

The good news is that books make us smart and good people. The bad news is that I’ve discovered about 40 books in our stacks that I want to read right now (some of them again, some for the first time). But I can’t. Because I’ve packed them.