Some of you may know that I recently moved provinces. Husband and I left the snowy plains of Alberta behind, to move to Vancouver, BC (where it promptly dumped snow on us, but that’s another rant for another time). To put it as simply (and with as few swear words as possible) the move did not go smoothly.
For starters, it snowed non-stop before we left, which resulted in our giant U-Haul truck getting itself stuck very firmly in the driveway. Not only was it stuck, it was blocking part of our street. Husband and I ran around frantically, dumping kitty litter around the tires, trying to push it out, shoving cardboard pizza boxes around it to try to give it some grip. Finally it shot forward (with me driving) which nearly resulted in a heart attack for both of us, and the neighbors, who were watching us out of their kitchen windows as we tried to drive the stupid thing down the street without crashing into their mini vans.
When we arrived at the U-Haul place to try to hitch the trailer up to tow our car, the trailer was broken.
Keep in mind, I’m paranoid about driving. I try to avoid traffic, and driving in the rain at night gives me heart palpitations. So of course, I had to drive the car behind the moving truck the entire way to BC. The trip over here was at times beautiful, as we drove through the Rocky Mountains, but mostly it was heart attack- inducing. Parts of the Coquihalla Highway were like driving in a complete white out. You know that cheeky guy in art class who holds up a blank piece of paper and says “Look! It’s a Polar bear in a snow storm”? It was like that.
My idea of an adventure is sitting by the fire reading someone else’s adventure, so this was less than ideal for me.
We arrived half-frozen, but alive, and we had a couple of moving guys to help us on the other side. While they were slinging boxes into the new apartment, I was busy tidying things up in the bedroom, and I don’t think they realized I could hear them. After a mighty grunt from one of the men, I hear him say to his coworker, “How many boxes of books does this woman have?”
I’ve got news for you, honey…
The reason it made me laugh, is because the movers on the other side said exactly the same thing. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I clearly have a problem. For someone who refuses to give up “real” books for ebooks, I realize that I create chaos each and every time move. I realize I force my husband to rent a slightly bigger truck each time, and that we usually try to find a two bedroom place in order to set up a library (or in my husband’s case, to get the books out of the way). Briefly I began to wonder if I suffer from Bibliomania, which is the hoarder’s version of a bookworm (now THAT is a show I would watch).
Some of the symptoms of Bibliomania are piling up books in strange places, like the bathroom and the kitchen, and collecting multiple copies of the same book. I DO have two copies of City of Bones, and there are piles of boxes in my kitchen. Did that make me a book hoarder? But no, the Bibliomaniac also collects copies of books they never intend to read, and I determinedly plow through every one (cough, while still buying more as they come out).
I concluded, that though I am the bane of moving guys everywhere, I am not an actual Bibliomaniac. I simply love to be surrounded by books. I love the smell of old books, I love to be able to touch them and turn the pages. Sorry, ebooks. I know you’re light and effortless to carry from province to province, but it just isn’t going to happen. I’m going to continue to collect paperbacks and hardcovers, until I am lost in a fortress of books and have to read my way out. I’m not a Bibliomaniac, I don’t HAVE to collect books. I can stop anytime.
By the way, I just bought “Hollow City” yesterday. Great book.
Fun Facts: Bibliomaniac, Sir Thomas Phillipps, had over 40,000 printed books and 50,000 manuscripts in his house at the time of his death. This filled sixteen rooms!