Hello. My name is Eileen and I am a recovering bookrat.
I know, I know. Usually, people refer to people such as myself as a bookworm not a bookrat, but there is a difference. To be a writer, though, one must first be a reader. One thing is certain, no one could ever accuse me of not being either.
Books are piled everywhere throughout my abode. I have books on my fireplace mantel. I have three stacks of books on my coffee table. I sleep with books in my bed. I have books in both bathrooms. In my home office, I have two towers of bookshelves filled, stacks on my floor, stacks on my desk, and four boxes of tomes yet to read. In addition, I have boxes of books in my garage that I have read and decided to part with — sort of. I just can’t bring myself to do it. It is very hard for me to give away a book I’ve read because we have a history of going to bed together. It’s like trying to get rid of a good lover and you can’t because you are the best of friends.
It’s much easier giving away books that I started to read but couldn’t get past the first few boring sentences, paragraphs, and/or pages. Those I don’t have a problem with donating or whatever.
I probably could found Bookrats Anonymous, but instead, I think I will concentrate my efforts into getting rid of some of these damn books because I would like to see my floor again.