It's official, I have become a book smuggler. If The Book Smugglers had a Book Smuggling Anonymous Association, I'd be admitted.
Last Friday I admitted to my roommate that I had been smuggling books into the apartment. I assured him that I wasn't spending money on the books, they were books I had gotten from the library's giveaway shelf. I confessed that each day I would take one of the several on my desk, bring it home, and slip it onto the book shelves.
Shock was the first emotion that flashed across his face, then it was a look that could have been directly translated into "Are you kidding me?" He then told me that I was doomed to be on the television show "Hoarders" and that when we moved out he wasn't going to help carry the boxes of books.
Then, he said it: "Reagan, you may have a problem." I immediately argued that it could be worse; I could be bringing in stray dogs or be addicted to alcohol or smoking. Yes, my "addiction" takes up space and will be a pain to move out, but... it's worth it right?
For about a millisecond, I was sincerely concerned if he was right or not. Do I have problem? I have been bringing in more books than I've been reading lately. Has book blogging skewed my idea of book ownership? In the beginning I was an avid user of my library, now I find myself making more and more trips to the used bookstore. Do I now view "an intense amount of books"-ownership as normal because all of my book blogging friends have the same "problem" that I do?
Who knows
I can tell you I don't see my book purchasing going down any time soon. I'm not going broke and my students are devouring everything I have. Is it so wrong to be addicted to reading, the written word, and books in general?
But, I do still feel a little guilty about "cluttering" the apartment...