Hokay, it's official. Having my books packed up is making me crazy. It's been over 2 months now, and it is not getting any better.
I don't know how many times in the last 4 weeks I've thought "Oh, I can look that up in this book" or "Wow, I want to read that section" or "Hey, I can quote this from the book" only to realize the book is IN A BOX and that box is stacked IN THE GARAGE and it would take a titanic effort to even dig around for it, much less locate the specific book.
The Husband has already stated he expects to live surrounded by bookcases where ever it is we move. He says he will build them if need be. I'm thinking a nice set around the headboard of the bed would be attractive.
Update: MIL and The Husband just took a lot of boxes from the garage to put in a storage unit. I know they took boxes of books (and left behind boxes of dishes) because they just went from the nearest end. Still, I got physically sick when I realized it. It's stupid, but true. I could just about vomit right now. I didn't think they would do that, but of course they would.