Last week I muscled some additional bookshelves into my room, and I think it's caught up with me because my shoulder feels wrecked today. I totally knew better than to move all the shelves (and books) myself, but vague, chronic joint injuries are truly wearisome. There comes a time (last week was it for me) when you say to yourself: if my shoulder was fine, I could do this without help. And then you decide you will even though it isn't.
You know how some folding shelves are stackable? Well, I probably should've (woa-ho, how's that for Freudian slip?) shouldn't have positioned the second unit on top by myself and then traded it out for another one that was a stain match. Oh well, that's what psyching yourself up with adrenaline'll get ya.
Anyway, I've become a little obsessed with arranging my books, photo boxes, and so forth: reference, fiction, bios, film, art, language, photography, lit., and tall are most of the categories. As I was putting books back up, I pushed them all the way to the back of the shelf. Before, I'd had all the spines aligned near the edge, and I'm not sure why I did either, but I feel like I have more shelf space with them pushed back now which is cool. Tchotchke space.
One year ago at TTaT: Erosion, in real time
tags: books, shelves, shoulder+injury
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