M. Suzanne Terry

One of us is clearly more excited to be taking a shelfie than the other.

Twice a year, the Fort Worth Friends of the Library hosts a huge sale of excess books. I don’t always make the spring sale, but I usually make the one in the fall.

Margarett likes to go on the first day, when there is a better selection. She’s even found some first editions. I prefer the $15-a-box day, though, and she is happy to go on that day, too.

In years past, they have had two rooms. The smaller room hosted lots of nonfiction, poetry, and classic literature. The larger room was filled with fiction, DVDs, and books on tape. This year, they didn’t have the larger room. It was taken over by a kitsch store. I like kitsch as much as the next person, but I am (not-so-)secretly hoping for the store’s demise over the course of the year, because cramming all those books into that one tiny room (and an even tinier one next to it) created a very stressful situation for me. At one point, I was trapped in a pocket of four other people, to whom I exclaimed, “LetmeoutIhavetogorightnow.” They totally understood.

But I still came away with a pretty nice haul. My box wasn’t full (because I was not going back in there), so we consolidated and saved even more money.

Even if they don’t get the big room back next time, I know I’ll return. The stress will fade from my memory and will be replaced by a longing to support libraries and acquire new treasures.

I’m writing 31 Days of Shelfies.