Tumbleweeds, Lost Souls and a New Wall Unit

I am the proud owner of a new set of bookshelves.  Indeed, its actually an entire wall unit which I have acquired courtesy of the generosity of my family and the skill of my father who built it.  For the first time in living memory I have more bookshelf space than I have books.  I also have pretty solid evidence that I am never moving for the rest of my life as you would have to demolish my apartment to get the furniture out.

Yet as I gaze fondly at my new wall unit I find myself a trifle vexed.  Don't misunderstand me, I am delighted with my wall unit.  Words can't express how pleased I am with it. PLEASED PLEASED PLEASED!!!  But still I am vexed.   As I look around at the bookshelves which dot my apartment I see yawing gaps where books should be.  This offends my sense of order.  It will come as a great surprise to many (quite possibly to every) that I possess a sense of order.  Permit me to clarify; I have a highly specific sense of order.

Within the ocean of chaos that is my apartment small pockets of near maniacal order float like icebergs to doom the unwary.  The unsuspecting guest, having dropped their coat on the dining table and settled down on the floor with a coffee cup of red wine is rather stunned to be ordered to replace the book they have been browsing in exactly the place they got it from rather than the shelf below.  This is despite the fact that they had to move a battered teddy bear and a half melted candle in order to access the book in the first place.

The gaps in my bookcases vex me and there are only so many stuffed animals and melted candles I can use to cover them up.  Like missing teeth in a cheery smile they haunt me and remind me that something isn't right.  I must buy more books.  These dark patches must be filled and my apartment returned to a more pleasing equilibrium.  It will be difficult, Amazon.com has taken out a restraining order against me and, oh yes, I can't afford it.  Nevertheless it must be done.  Until I have filled up the space and restored balance to my universe I will not rest easy in my bed.  My eye will be forever drawn to those parts of the bookshelves that are unaccountably bare of books, I imagine small tumbleweeds blowing across the shelves (actually, that part is true.  Dusting is not part of my sense of order).  Like an abandoned city I can't help thinking of lost souls haunting the newly desolate shelves.

Worst of all I will feel obliged to apologise to every visitor who enters for the appearance of my bookshelves despite the fact that they are more likely to be disturbed by the sucking noise they hear when they try and walk on my carpet.