The Apostrophe Blog
We have to replace the wall-to-wall carpeting in the upstairs floor of our 1938 house. It is worn out. Wrinkled, falling apart, let alone desperately in need of a cleaning. It was installed by the previous owners of this house; their daughter had the knotty pine room that is my writing studio as her bedroom. We have now been here for seventeen years so the carpet is likely twenty-five years old and then some. Beyond its life expectancy according to the rug guys at Linoleum City on SE MLK Boulevard where we trekked yesterday to pick out a carpet called Barista and schedule a time for them to come measure and give us the full story as to costs and time frame for installation. In the meantime, I took advantage of the cooler temperatures—which means our upstairs is bearable for human habitation—and moved not one, not two, but eight! boxes of books into temporary storage on our house’s main floor.
It is always interesting to empty out a space that you have grown comfortable and complacent with. I sit here tonight typing these words while the walls around me are naked of books except for the ones I managed to cram into the shelves that are built into this room’s knotty pine walls.
I will admit it here, now—I have too many books. Is that a bad thing? Likely no. Still I feel like I need to purge. I tell myself that I need to pass my reference books, encyclopedias, poetry texts, maybe even my entire collection of Anton Chekhov’s short stories along to someone else right about now. I mean I am turning seventy in four months so hell to the yes about downsizing and then some. But why is doing this so hard? Because because because?
In the meantime, I have to believe that the little shop of horrors that is the forcefully ascendant AI doesn’t have the hands to open a physical book let alone read it. So I guess I will keep packing my boxes. And finding homes for the volumes I am willing to pass along whether it ends up being to friends or little free libraries. And I suspect I will continue to stockpile books. Because—viva i libri!
Interests: Reading, writing, not arithmetic. The art and craft of poetry. Photography. Vegetable and flower gardening especially heirloom bulbs and dahlias. Movies in real theatres. Theatre on real stages. Art in real galleries. Crossword puzzles and, of course, Wordle. Singer-songwriters like Aimee Mann and Patti Griffin. All kinds of music especially 1930s jazz. Venice, Italy! The Dude abides.
- The Summer of Our Discontent - August 27, 2025
- Poem-a-Day Publication at Second Coming - August 22, 2025
- The Running List… - August 21, 2025
