Apart from being dark, musty and having ceilings so low tall folks bump their heads, my apartment is notorious for two things: first, it’s quite messy, as I am an atrocious housekeeper, and second, it contains a lot of books. And by a lot, I mean a whole lot. Folks tend to not believe me when I tell them how many books I have, so I went around and took some photos tonight (don’t worry, the apartment is cleaner than it looks from the photos). Bear in mind that I left quite a few behind in Dryden, and still have some packed away in boxes and such here in the apartment that I wasn’t able to get photos of, nor did I make a survey of my various magazines. Behold:
The homemade bookcase in my living room:
The tall bookcase, also in my living room:
Books on the desk:
Books near the television:
Books on the chair:
Books on the black hole that is my homemade coffee table:
Books stacked on random things in a corner:
The third bookcase in the living room:
Books on and about the chest, also in the living room (yes, that’s a Ziploc bag full of Smurfs):
Books by the couch:
Books amongst the DVDs (yes, that’s The Imitation of Christ below Stephen King’s Four Past Midnight:
Books on the cat:
Books in the bathroom:
Books near the bed:
Books in boxes:
Books on the dresser:
Books in the dresser:
I know what I’m getting you for your birthday.
Love it! The Chomsky on the cat is priceless.
Molly (my cat) is truly an accomplished linguist.