I'm nursing a slightly pulled back muscle that resulted from toting 18 books from what I like to think of as my personal library to Newburyport's for its Great Old Book March sale.
It took two trips.
I don't part with books lightly. Almost all those in my book cases are non-fictional. I have absolutely nothing against books of good fiction. The problem I have with them is that I can't put them down once I start, and then it's over.
Not so with nonfiction with all those facts and details of the who, the why, the how, the when and the what-not.
I'm not that confident of remembering what it was about them that persuaded me to keep the ones I parted with for as long as I had, but I think it's probably insecurity. I never know what I will need until I need it. Books worth their salt for reading are worth their salt for keeping.
But the time does come when the cases are filled and books are spilling their way to coffee tables, desktops and a chair or two, so there's nothing for it but to offer them up for a good cause, and library book sales are welcome opportunities to share the wealth.
I made the first of my deliveries on Monday morning of what I thought was early in the drive.
Early? What had once been the spacious children's room that runs the width of the original library building was filled wall to wall with books of every description, sorted and stacked, and more would pour in by the beginning of sales on Wednesday.
A half-dozen volunteers were hard at work removing books from the containers of those who brought them and were carrying them off to their allotted classifications.