A funny thing happened tonight. I was going through my husband books, the ones he intended to sell at his now closed e-Bay store, and found that there were actually some books that I had absolutely no interest in reading...ever. This kind of caught me by surprise. I'm a bibliophile, and so I was not prepared to actually look at a book in my possesion and decide I did not want to read it. It's unheard of! I mean, sure, there's books that I want to read later, I mean, way later, but there have not been books that I simply don't want to read at all. Until now.
It's funny, really. An archaic book on surgical procedure. Ew. Why would I want to read that? Why would anyone who's not really niche-y want to read that? How did we ever get it? People have been giving Mark old books, so we've got tons of them. Unfortunately, most are books nobody wants. Thus, the closing of the very unprofitable store.
So, now, we have to figure out what to do with all these old, worthless books. And, that's surprising, because I've never really considered any book worthless. There've been some really bad books that I've read, and I've enjoyed destroying them for their badness. But, there's worth in that. These books are not even books either of us can take pleasure in destroying. They're not bad, they're just worthless. Obsolete.
It's strange. Our bookshelf space is very limited, and I do want to reclaim the space these books are currently occupying (remember the bibliophile part?), but what to do with them? Ah, well, we'll think of something. We always do.