That is the number of fiction books alone I have on my shelves. Seven HUNDRED. And that doesn't include any non-fiction, devotional or "self help" type books. And of those 700, I have read only 264. Yikes. No wonder Matt gets aggravated every time I bring home more books.
So I admit it. I am addicted to books. But how can I not? I live to read. I could have worse addictions, right? I don't smoke, do drugs and only drink socially. I am not a big shopper, I don't buy fancy things nor drive a fancy car. I just live for my books.
So some may ask why do I hang on to the 264 that I have read? I'm not totally sure. I have certain authors that I must read every book as they come out, and those I just cannot part with. And yes I know there is the library, but I hate waiting for a book and there is just something special about actually owning it. And those I may actually reread, or so that is what I tell my husband. And the others, while some were just so-so, getting rid of them would be like getting rid of a part of my family.
Today I alphabetized my bookshelves and made sure all my books were cataloged on my computer. I did find 10 books to take to the used book store. And well, I admit, half of those are books that somehow I bought doubles. But it is a start, right? I realized my books are already 3 deep on two giant Ikea bookshelves. Any more and I will be having to put an addition on to the house just for books.
So all you book addicts, please tell me I am not alone. Please tell me that others have this weird addiction to owning books. And if not, someone lie. At least it will make me feel better.