A while ago I decided to write about my other obsession in life – books. The first post can be found here, and it sort of links to the second one. Which is the one you’re reading this very second.

The photo at the top of this post is the fantastic new bookcase my father-in-law built for me. Those books are all the ones I’ve bought but have yet to read – the very same ones I wrote about in that first post. Looking back at that crappy bookshelf in the first post makes me even happier about these lovely new bookshelves (just quietly, I have been known to go into that room and just look at the shelves. Yep, I’m odd sometimes).

There’s been a surprising effect of the new shelves. I’ve been reminded of books I’d forgotten about. With the old shelves, books went on there a year, two years, three years ago and stayed in those places. My mind then tagged them as the “old” books and hardly gave them a look when I was picking out my next book.

But moving them all to the new shelves meant they were mixed up and placed in new spots. So, rather than overlooking them, I’ve found myself looking over them and remembering that, hey, I did actually buy that book. And that one. And all of those two.

And yet, I still can’t find anything to read. Yeah, I know, you see that photo up there with books up to the ceiling and you think “like Hell you have nothing to read”. But it’s true. I’m struggling to find a book that’s sticky, a book I start reading and holds me all the way to the end. Some of them I pass over because I’m not in the mood to read it (I was obviously in the mood to read it when I bought the damn thing, maybe I should have read it then). Others I start and give up as soon as I lose interest – I’m not one of those who stick at a book that is bringing them no joy.

So I’ve got all these books but nothing to read. Hopefully that will change soon – if only so I can make some space to buy some more books and bring them home.