I have a serious problem.
I have a huge stack of unread books in my house. It’s a combination of my perpetual weakness of the will at thrift stores and book review promises and free-two-day-shipping with Amazon Prime. All of these forces have combined to an enormous stack of unread books that physically pains me to behold. I long to read them. I love these books. I have been waiting to get into them. And yet….there they are.
I used to feel sad at bookshops: how will I ever be able to read all of the amazing books? I will die first! I will die and I won’t get to read half the books a person should read to be a real person! I had a frequent existential crisis of my own mortality, thanks to the bookshops. Now I feel that way in my own home.
Yesterday, I went on a hunt to find all of the unread books in my house and I piled them up. I took this picture and then I promptly found another three stashed in my desk. And then two more in a downstairs bookcase. And then four more in the other bookcase. This is epidemic.
I am making a new rule: No more new books until I’ve read all of these.
Not one. Not a single one.single.new.book.
Not a library book. Not a free book. Not a thrift store book.
I am going to read every single one of these wonderful books and then – THEN! – I will allow myself to read something new.
I’m committed to finishing all of this stack before I can bring another new book into this house.
……I’m doomed for failure, aren’t I?