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Right, so, I had a couple thousand books. I think that probably for a span of seven years or so, I bought two or three books a week from the used bookstore and never threw one away because, you know. Books! Reading! Rereading! As everyone who knows me understands, I loved them. A lot.
In preparation for moving, I cut it down. Like, I threw away and gave away and packed away almost all of them. I brought about 500, 600 with me to this new apartment. These are the books I love the most, although many have questioned my taste on some of them. ;-) These are my Douglas Adams and Chuck Palahniuk and Kurt Vonnegut and Peter S Beagle. These are my my CS Lewis, Susan Cooper, SJ Rozan, Dennis Lehane, Dean Koontz, Steven King, some Ayn Rand and then a random mix of other good books. Also, every book by Nora Roberts because dammit, I like romance novels. And her alter-ego JD Robb too. And others because dude, romance novels! Good entertainment, hey, don't knock 'em.
Anyway, I love these books.
My landlady came in this morning to touch up paint and I was telling her about how I'd brought in the last box of books and finally felt moved in, even though I still have stuff coming. Tonight she says to me, "My husband and I were talking about your books. We'd like you to cut it down to a hundred."
I'm like, "what?"
"One hundred books," she says. "Because this house is old and we have a problem with sagging floors. We don't allow waterbeds either."
Lots of places don't allow waterbeds. Waterbeds are monstrous heavy and leaky and completely stationary and they can be a hassle. But two bookcases? With about 600 books? Causing the kind of damage that a waterbed might cause? I don't think so.
I didn't say anything. I really kind of couldn't. And so she said, "Well, you think about it, I know I kind of sprung that on you."
Well, yeah. Yeah, I would say so.
One hundred books! Trying to cut down from the number that I have right now would be like trying to cut off my arm. This is, I think, an unfair thing to ask of me and I refuse to do it. It said nothing in my rental agreement about what I could or could not own in my apartment, excluding the waterbed, and I can't even. No. No no no no no.
*throws a temper tantrum like a five year old*
..........
OK. OK, out of a sense of compromise, I am going to see if I can go through and refill one box of books that can go live at my mother's house until I can have them again. But in no way, shape or form am I even attempting to cut down that far. And if she asks again, I will tell her that I find the restriction unacceptable. I will move out before I will limit myself to one hundred books.
My mother thinks that the level of upset I'm feeling over this is unreasonable. Other friends are like, what on earth are you so mad about, it's just books. But it isn't just books--it's the idea that now she's going to ask something like this of me. What next, get rid of some of your videocasettes? And hey, while you're at it, that computer desk looks pretty heavy. And so does the hutch with all your dishes, you might want to cut down on those too--
OK, so it's mostly the books.
Am I being unreasonable? I've never rented an apartment on my own before and it's been years since I lived in one at all. I need advice. Someone, anyone with more experience, let me know if this request of hers is as unfair as I feel it is.
Or, you know, just rant with me about people who are obviously insane!
In preparation for moving, I cut it down. Like, I threw away and gave away and packed away almost all of them. I brought about 500, 600 with me to this new apartment. These are the books I love the most, although many have questioned my taste on some of them. ;-) These are my Douglas Adams and Chuck Palahniuk and Kurt Vonnegut and Peter S Beagle. These are my my CS Lewis, Susan Cooper, SJ Rozan, Dennis Lehane, Dean Koontz, Steven King, some Ayn Rand and then a random mix of other good books. Also, every book by Nora Roberts because dammit, I like romance novels. And her alter-ego JD Robb too. And others because dude, romance novels! Good entertainment, hey, don't knock 'em.
Anyway, I love these books.
My landlady came in this morning to touch up paint and I was telling her about how I'd brought in the last box of books and finally felt moved in, even though I still have stuff coming. Tonight she says to me, "My husband and I were talking about your books. We'd like you to cut it down to a hundred."
I'm like, "what?"
"One hundred books," she says. "Because this house is old and we have a problem with sagging floors. We don't allow waterbeds either."
Lots of places don't allow waterbeds. Waterbeds are monstrous heavy and leaky and completely stationary and they can be a hassle. But two bookcases? With about 600 books? Causing the kind of damage that a waterbed might cause? I don't think so.
I didn't say anything. I really kind of couldn't. And so she said, "Well, you think about it, I know I kind of sprung that on you."
Well, yeah. Yeah, I would say so.
One hundred books! Trying to cut down from the number that I have right now would be like trying to cut off my arm. This is, I think, an unfair thing to ask of me and I refuse to do it. It said nothing in my rental agreement about what I could or could not own in my apartment, excluding the waterbed, and I can't even. No. No no no no no.
*throws a temper tantrum like a five year old*
..........
OK. OK, out of a sense of compromise, I am going to see if I can go through and refill one box of books that can go live at my mother's house until I can have them again. But in no way, shape or form am I even attempting to cut down that far. And if she asks again, I will tell her that I find the restriction unacceptable. I will move out before I will limit myself to one hundred books.
My mother thinks that the level of upset I'm feeling over this is unreasonable. Other friends are like, what on earth are you so mad about, it's just books. But it isn't just books--it's the idea that now she's going to ask something like this of me. What next, get rid of some of your videocasettes? And hey, while you're at it, that computer desk looks pretty heavy. And so does the hutch with all your dishes, you might want to cut down on those too--
OK, so it's mostly the books.
Am I being unreasonable? I've never rented an apartment on my own before and it's been years since I lived in one at all. I need advice. Someone, anyone with more experience, let me know if this request of hers is as unfair as I feel it is.
Or, you know, just rant with me about people who are obviously insane!
no subject
Shit, sweetie, no advice whatsoever for yuo here. In high school my dad told me I was spending too much time reading and if I didn't get my grades up he'd burn all my books, and I went looking for a job and an apartment. I love books that much. You have my sympathies.
::shakes fist:: evil witch!
And oh, I do have advice after all, just hide them in a closet and pretend they're not there!
no subject
My goodness! See, people have told me all my life that I read too much but mostly with a kind of bemused affection. No one has ever, ever threatened my collection before. If my mom had said something like that, I probably would have done the same thing.
Well, no, maybe not. I'm a wimp like that. *G* But still, very brave of you.
And oh, I do have advice after all, just hide them in a closet and pretend they're not there!
I thought about that but then I was like, oh, right. In my lease agreement there is a thingie about how they reserve the right to come in and do an inspection every three months or so, which I found out today isn't entirely cool, but I did agree to it, so. I might like, put them in one of my clothes bins or something.
It's so sad that I'm considering hiding my books. Hiding books! Like they're bad! Ughhhh.
You know, I might hop a plane, me and my bad dangerous forbidden books. Just have to get someone to explain passporty type stuff to me, and I might be gone, man! ;-)
no subject
Well, I didn't really do it, you understand. I was 13 and the grades never really became that bad, but it was one of the great standoffs of of my life. But I was serious, which freaked out my Mom, made my dad leave me alone (until the Great Standoff regarding my college of choice) and I kept my books.
It's so sad that I'm considering hiding my books. Hiding books! Like they're bad! Ughhhh.
i still say it's an evil evil house. bring a wooden stake, just in case.