Mourning books

While the move over all went well, the lead up was horrible.  We had a tiny tiny budget for the move, since J didn't have steady work when we moved, so we piled everything into the cars and what didn't fit got mailed.  Besides gas, we ended up spending about 280 on mailing all of our books.  Because of the cost, and because most of the boxes of books had to be carried so much, we were pretty aggressive about getting rid of books before the move.  That meant agonizing and agonizing over what to get rid of and what to keep.  We ended up getting rid of quite a lot, but nothing we're sad about losing.

What I am a little sad about, and what still makes me feel a little unsettled in the house and in my writing, is that the Post Office lost two boxes of our books, one box personal and one box professional.  We had trouble for a while figuring out exactly what was missing (in order to file a claim) because 1. it was the holidays 2. we hadn't had all the boxes delivered yet, so it was impossible to know what was missing and what was just in the mail and 3. we own more than 300 books and don't use all of them every day, so the missing ones kind of blended in.  The Post Office seems to be working hard to track down our boxes, but what makes me a little unsettled in my writing is that I usually write with a stack of relevant books on my desk.  I don't always read them, or really even look inside them, but it's just become part of my method to build a little fort out of the books I'm talking to in whatever I'm writing and then write.  Maybe this just all goes to how much a creature of habit and stuff I am, but I want my book fort back.