I’ve moved into a new apartment, a lovely, one bedroom, empty apartment. My possessions consist of a more-comfortable-than-I-thought-it-would-be air mattress on the floor and some boxes. The boxes are now half empty, scattered about with no actual plan or reason. I don’t have any type of furniture. I have nothing to set the moose vase I bought in Estonia upon. Yea, it sounds hideous, and it probably is, but I love it. It reminds me of that castle in Tallinn where we stumbled upon a ridiculous little store full of hand made moose items. Moose necklaces, moose earrings, moose coffee mugs and hand painted moose vases. Moose vases! Amazing. You see why I had to buy the vase and then carry it in my hands on the plane all the way back to America to make sure the antlers didn’t snap off. But I digress. This of course, is not the point. My moose is on the floor, my paintings are laying about, everything is just there. It has no where to go. My books though… my books are another story.
When I walked into my new apartment, I despaired a bit at the lack of bookshelves. In my opinion, new apartments should come with bookshelves. Here I was, in this new city, new apartment, driven halfway across the country, five days, endless gas money, all in essence…to tote four very full storage containers and multiple bags of books all the way to my new home. If my books hadn’t been in my car, it would have been me, a computer and two suitcases. Thanks to my books, I couldn’t see out the back window. At all. They were piled in so tightly my friend who drove across the country with me couldn’t recline her chair. It was really ridiculous (but obviously, necessary.) She was a good sport eventually though, she gave up, completely hopeless, after she tried to convince me I didn’t actually need all my books. To be fair, I gave a good 50 or so away. I only kept the ones I truly needed. Really.
When I lived in Massachusetts my apartment had no room for bookshelves so they ended up in my kitchen cabinets (all of them but one) and piled around the studio, towers of them here and there became natural fixtures. Under my tables, upon the nightstand, next to the couch. Now with no furniture, its a little tricky. But then, I discovered, my new apartment has this contraption called a linen closet.
Its got these nicely spaced shelves, a whole ceiling to floor row of them. Unable to leave my books in boxes (anyone else have a compulsive need to unpack books?), the linen closet, top to bottom, crammed into every crevice, has become a home for my books.
I kind of like it actually, I can close the door on them at night and feel that they are safe, waiting and hoping for the day I have enough money to buy them a real home. So hey, if you know where I can get a bookshelf, please let me know. Then maybe I’ll be able to buy some sheets.