Well, I'm kind of famous for getting an idea on the spur of the moment, and starting a project, like, RIGHT NOW.
The other day, I walked into the front hall and took a long, hard look at the built-in bookcases flanking the window. The bookcases covered with hippie fabric I bought on sale years ago at this place in San Francisco.
The very same bookcases crammed with just a small portion of the vast collection of books on every subject, from boogers to zinnias, that take up lots of space (and collect lots of dust) in the house.
Okay. I admit it. I'm obsessed. I love books. But it's my parents' fault, really: we had tons of books around when I was growing up. Stacks of them. Bookcases and shelves groaning under the weight of them. Fiction and non, all categorized like a library. I can't help it. They make me happy and nostalgic, and I usually don't like to part with them. (because you never know when you might need to research how to replace the seal on your toilet, or read up on what to do when your kid has a suspicious looking rash.) But the other day, something came over me, and I had to reorganize those shelves RIGHT THEN.
So, I ripped off the fabric (which was there in the first place to shield the books from the eyes of a certain canine who loves to
After taking a
Every now and then, though, I manage to get fed up enough with the sorry state of my showplace to change things around a bit.
Here are the "before" and "after" pictures. I have to say, I do feel much better about the bookshelves now, and I'm glad I finally got inspired to reorganize and prettify the front entry. I did cave and put a few books back on the shelves, seeing as it's been several months since the knucklehead has eaten any, but I recognize that the reality of living with these two Labradors is something akin to having a couple of 80 or 90 pound toddlers who will never fully grow up past the baby gate stage. I'm not done yet, though.. I still have to decide where to put all those displaced books upstairs. Wish me luck.