Now that my books are newly-organized, I have one shelf entirely for what used to be referred to as my “reading pile”. Only now, they sit on a shelf, separated out from the others, each book purchased with the intent to read it, and yet, because of a lack of focus or the intervention of other shiny things, like running or booze or strippers or iPhones, the books remain unread, alas.
That reminds me, I have another category of books that I forgot to mention: Unread.
So tonight, with my apartment completely clean and my laundry done and very little money remaining in my bank account until payday, I decided to pull out one of the unread books and read it.
I had many books from which to choose: a history of Portland, a couple of books on philosophy and consciousness, some light fiction, and many others.
And now I’m logging off for a bit, to sit in my library, listen to some background music, and read.