I am almost feeling back to my old self, health-wise. It's amazing, the recovery I've made since changing my posture at the office (and, just now, in my beautiful but ergonomically deadly chrome and leather chair in my bedroom). Who would have known that a little thing like sitting up straight could completely alter your physical well-being?
Okay, so my parents did, as they've always encouraged me to sit up straight, but at the office, when I sit for 8 hours straight (unless I have the pleasure of standing around on the jobsite for several hours being ogled by construction workers), it's difficult to maintain that upright posture so prized by Victorian ladies. Difficult unless you have the proper chair, that is.
In my newly feeling better state, I have accomplished a bunch of things, as you might have noticed from the two previous blog posts. I was not, dear reader, finished just yet.
Oh, no. No, I was not finished. (Rubs hands together and looks shifty).
Last night, after returning from a bonding session with Major Tom (read: scratching his ears and feeding him), I decided to rearrange one of my bookshelves. It's adjacent to the console table that holds my TV, and was the destined destination for my brand spanking new DVD player.
A word about boring DVD players (as opposed to Blu-Ray players, etc., which are exciting beyond measure according to the salesman who doesn't seem to care that I watch a DVD maybe once in a blue moon): they're much cheaper and much much smaller than they were when I bought my first one (may it rest in peace).
I think I'm getting carried away with parentheses.
The John Derian boxes were actually purchased to provide a nice little plinth for my DVD player, in addition to more places to stash the odds and ends that don't really belong anywhere else. They sit in a place of pride, anchoring one end of the bookshelf.
I then did something I never thought I would do, after removing all the books from the shelf. Bear in mind that these were mostly large art and architecture monographs, so the exercise I got performing this task was considerable. And exhausting.
Back to the thing I never thought I would do: I organized the books by color.
I know! IknowIknowIknow! I've seen it done in magazines and it always struck me that those people must not access their books very often if they organized them by color. Really, if you're going to jumble all your nonfiction and fiction and anthologies and art books together, how can you ever find anything?
I was at least methodical about it. Only my architecture and art books are arranged by color, with the black books together, the cream and white and yellow books together, and the blue books together. I did not realize, until Sunday night, just how many of my architecture books had blue spines.
I also realized that adding the boxes and DVD player left less room for the books. Hmmmm... So they are stacked, and a few of the books that are less attractive and not art/architecture are stacked behind the few modern fiction works that inhabit a shelf, in exile from their counterparts across the room.
I managed to keep my cigar boxes (thanks, Dad!) on display, as they create nice level changes for the books (red cigar box with blue-green books on top = graphically pleasing), and my favorite photograph - my paternal grandmother with a Christmas bow on her head and a look that say "What? Do you have a problem with this?" on her face - is front and center: it speaks volumes about her understated sense of humor.
On another note, while attempting to email the images from this post to myself, I accidentally sent them to an email address one number away from mine. I wonder if I'll get a response?