I have a problem.
It’s a serious one.
Seriously serious, even.
There are too many books in my house. So many, in fact, that I’ve written terrible poetry about them.
How many is too many? Well, recently, I cleaned out my coffee table, decluttered my bookshelves, and Emily dumped all the books that were on, in or under my nightstand into a box. This is one of the sets of piles:
Anyone care to guess how many are there?
(Closest answer without going over will receive a little something nice from me. Seriously.)
I’d safely estimate having no less than 1000 books in my house. Some of them are terrible, but many are excellent. I have no more bookshelves. In my decluttering, I’ve found many that will be leaving the house, and this will be a good thing.
Because Emily’s eye is twitching.