And then I'd make room for a bookshelf end-on, at the other side of the room. The shunting of furniture was required.
It's true. I sit here and type no more books. Then I reach saturation AGAIN, and I find a way to reorganise or rearrange available and unavailable space.
But I don't go daft buying bookshelves. Last time I went daft buying a bookshelf, I rearranged things so much that I suspected I'd created room for two more massive bookshelves when the time came.
The time came, but I moved that one small container and made room for an extra monolith.
So, yes, this year, three jumbo bookshelves waltzed in and pushed saturation away from me. For...
No, I don't know how long.
I recreated an alleyway. Placing bookshelves against the wall becomes a luxury. You hold off projecting books and their shelves into the room itself. The library doesn't put up with that nonsense...
But the old office does. Easily, I walk into one room. Cautiously, I navigate my way through another.
One place, I could run into. Not very far. The other place, well, if I ran in...
I'd need to be stretchered back out.
At least I resolved thorny issues like bookcases in cupboards downstairs, or, gasp, bookshelves in the kitchen.
A temporary horror, I assure thee.
If I put bookcases in the loft, the loft will collapse on me in the middle of the night. That much we know as truth.
*Books on shelves. Shelves in rooms. Less room available in rooms for things that are not books or shelves.
Foolishly, I thought I'd published this post. It's a post in need of a follow-up...
Oh. Unpublished. In that case, I'll score through the figure at the start, and update the number.
I clambered through awkward spaces after introducing new bookshelves, and reached a conclusion. That's a technical term.
Wooden bookshelves in the loft? Bad idea. Those awkward plastic shelf units? If I reorganise my reorganisation of my reorganisation of things, I can shift those plastic terrors to the loft.
Once I added organisation to my reorganisation, I had more space to fill. Instantly. And I moved another eight feet of shelving into the office.
Doesn't sound like a huge amount of shelving. But to me, that's a golden value. It means I can shift another 35 feet of shelving in, spread across two rooms, at a later date.
No, not next Monday.
The cry is not about books, and no more of them.
Now the cry is of bookshelves, and where to cram them in. Nowhere. I am in sight of the final point of saturation.
My handy tape is sitting here, and I believe I can squeeze two more giant bookshelves in, if I take the chance on a measurement.
It's taking that chance that'll kill me. Bookalanche is not a word you want to use on your epitaph.