It started because of unspecified rodents. The inspector who came to check for termites found none (sigh of extreme relief) but did find evidence of rodents of some sort, and gave us a plan for dealing with same. Heigh-ho for the life of a property owner. So we intend to follow through with Operation Bye-Bye Templeton, but that meant that first we had to box up the books in the three bookshelves that stand in the way of the technician getting in and doing his work.
The bottom row of two of the bookshelves were record albums my husband has been trotting around with him since his teens and 20s (and a few albums I had been trotting around ditto, which were obscure enough that I didn’t think anyone would ever bother to bring them out as CDs or MP3s). The rest of the bookshelves were–double shelved–some of the books I have trotted around with me, and added to, since I was in high school. Books have always been a kind of comfort and emotional insulation–as if they, and the stories or information they contain, could keep me safe in an uncertain world. If this sounds familiar to you, feel free to hum along. Continue reading “ReDefinition”…