When Daughter C and the J-Man left the Farm, they left behind about 13 overflowing boxes’ worth of
crappy old books. Mind, none of the books were actually in boxes when they left, they were on shelves and other surface areas of the Apartment.
Months later, one of the tasks the Farmhand pretended to do was take each book off the shelf, dust it, and put it in the appropriately labeled box(es): Philosophy, Science, Humanities, Fiction, Classics. I will not re-visit the fact that he did not do a particularly good job at sorting– even though I was sorting right along side and he could have asked– nor that his dusting skills were not up to snuff. Mr. Big Food helped moved the large bookshelf today. So suffice it to say that I am dusting and sorting 13 boxes of books. (I take that back. How does one put a gynecology text in a box marked philosophy?)
There were fewer philosophy books than I’d thought. Though it makes sense, the J-Man would have taken those. Many more cultural anthropology texts, which is good because I was low on those (j/k). A. LOT. OF. FICTION. And by a lot, I mean a lot.
Mr. Big Food came up to check on progress and see if I needed him to help. He pointed at the floor and asked, “Are all those books going to fit on those shelves?”
Of course. Somehow, someway, I will figure it out. Probably. More than likely. I am pretty darned good at it. I’ve had a lot of practice.