Storage space has always been a matter of concern. Having lived a life out of cartons (well, not always, at least, not all the time, but I hope you know what I mean!), the dream of owning a library of my own remained a dream. Until the day we settled on our apartment. Once all formalities were dealt with, the task was on me to design the space.
Oh, how excited I was! Finally, a room, nay a library, of my own! Sketches of furniture considered over the years came out of the musty pockets of imagination. Designs were redesigned. The foremost concern was my bookshelf. An able carpenter was assigned the duty of transforming the dream of a floor-to-ceiling, cubby-hole bookshelf to reality—the tallest book was measured for accurate height of the each shelf; measurement to equally divide each cubes was taken; the right wood was chosen; the colour of paint for the borders…. The work began and I waited with bated breath. Will it occupy too much space? Will my room appear cluttered? The magic was finally happening, unfolding before my eyes. The nine-foot-tall shelf was finally ready.
The to-be-read-soon are kept where I can stretch and reach, while the ones I have read and consider do not need to be consulted often are stacked, out of reach, on the topmost shelves. Enough space is also designated to fit stationary and the knick-knacks accumulated over the years. Due to my love of buying books in bulk ever so often and the lack of space in the room to fit any more bookshelves (I’ll get blasted if I occupy another wall with another bookshelf!), this one has been built to accommodate books up to two stacks in the same cube, one row before the other. Hopefully, I won’t run out of space any time soon!
And what now needs to be done is to buy a ladder!